UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


LILY 


BOOKS  BY  HUGH  WILEY 
JADE,  and  Other  Stories 
LADY  LUCK 
THE  WILDCAT 
LILY 


LILY 


By   HUGH   WILEY 


NEW  YORK 
ALFRED  •  A  •  KNOPF 

1922 


COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  INC. 

Published,  October,  192:8 


Bet  up,  electrotypes,  and  printed  by  t\t  Tail-Ballou  Co.,  Bino*amton,  If.  7. 

Paper  furnished  by  W.  F.  Ether  ing  ton  &  Co.,  New  York. 

Bound  lv  H.  Wolff  Estate,  New  York. 


MANUFACTURED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERICA 


TO 
GEORGE  HORACE  LORIMER 


LILY 


CHAPTER  I 

"Lookin*  ahead  you  kaint  depend 
On    whut's    waitin', — 
Mebbe  Heaven  lays  roun'  de  bend, 
Mebbe   Hell   an'   Satan." 

TO    the    Wildcat    in   San    Francisco    the 
world     and    all     things    therein    were 
middlin'  good.     The  scheme  of  life  was 
benevolent.     Old    Man    Trouble    appeared    on 
the  scene  often  enough  to  supply  a  black  back 
ground  for  the  noble  radiance  of  Lady  Luck's 
smile,  but  with  two  days  balanced  on  the  knife- 
edge  of  midnight  the  Wildcat  figgered  that  the 
griefs  of  yesterday  would  be  offset  by  the  joys 
of  to-morrow. 

At  the  eleventh  hour  Lady  Luck  had  smiled 
and  then  her  smile  had  turned  to  laughter  and 
part  of  the  record  of  her  favor  lay  in  crumpled 
banknotes  in  the  inside  pocket  of  the  Wildcat's 
yaller  striped  vest.  'He  had  no  coat,  for  the 
coat  had  been  a  gaudy  affair  adorned  with  the 
insignia  of  the  Temple  of  Luck,  and  he  had 

9 


10  LILY 

sluffed  this  along  with  the  cares  of  yesterday 
when  he  came  aboard  the  New  Orleans  bound 
Empire  with  his  mascot  goat. 

Down  in  the  basement  of  the  ol'  iron  boat 
the  Wildcat  leaned  comfortably  against  a 
stanchion  and  watched  Lily  eat  the  last  few 
fragments  of  a  wide  yellow  sash  which  had  gone 
with  the  office  of  Soopreem  Leader  of  the  Temple 
of  Luck.  He  leaned  heavily  for  a  while,  and 
then,  surrendering  to  gravity  and  to  a  natural 
instinct,  he  sogged  down  comfortably  with  his 
back  against  the  iron  post  and  did  the  best  he 
could  to  rest  himself  loose  from  the  sediment  of 
official  care  which  had  infested  the  day  that  was 
past. 

"Goat,  lay  off  dem  yaller  tassels.  Fust  thing 
you  knows  you  gits  yo'  stummick  all  braided  up 
wid  gol'  an'  silver  wire.  All  right  fo'  clouds 
to  have  a  silver  lining — goats  is  different. 
'Spec'  did  you  have  yo'  own  way  you  nutrines 
yo'  insides  so  heavy  wid  such  truck  dat  you 
kaint  walk  de  gang  plank  when  us  gits  to 
Memphis  whah  oP  Cap'n  Jack  is  waitin'." 

"Blaa-a!"  Lily  replied,  and  in  her  answer 
was  a  protest  against  the  Wildcat's  supervision 
of  her  menu.  In  the  first  place  the  tassels  were 
gratifying  to  the  throat  and  ate  easily,  and  in  the 


LILY  11 

second  there  was  a  satisfying  flavor  of  shellac 
attached  to  the  soopreem  insignia.  By  the  time 
the  Wildcat  had  completed  his  oration  nothing 
remained  of  the  two  pompous  tassels  except  a 
small  wooden  button  about  the  size  of  an  after- 
dinner  mint.  On  this  confection  Lily  nibbled 
delicately  with  her  front  teeth. 

The  Wildcat  looked  down  and  saw  that  his 
words  had  been  unheeded.  "All  right,  goat, 
it's  yoj  pussonal  stummick, — load  it  wid  pig 
iron  does  you  crave  to,  but  remembeh,  you  gits 
no  sympathy  when  de  belly  ache  konkers  you." 

A  sudden  memory  of  the  good  fortune  that 
Lady  Luck  had  showered  down  filled  the  Wild 
cat  with  charity  toward  his  erring  mascot  and 
he  reached  in  his  pocket  and  hauled  out  a  long 
cigar.  He  broke  the  cigar  in  two  and  held  the 
long  end  toward  Lily.  "Heah  you  is,  goat. 
Finish  yo'  banquet  whilst  I  sees  kin  I  sleep  my 
self  dreamless  Jtil  de  oP  boat  man  gits  heah." 

While  Lily  munched  thoughtfully  on  the 
shredded  cigar  the  Wildcat  curled  himself  up 
on  the  steel  deck  with  his  head  propped  between 
two  sheltering  angles  of  the  stanchion  and  sailed 
away,  three  seconds  later,  into  a  placid  estuary 
of  the  tranquil  sea  that  lies  beyond  the  troubled 
waters  of  life's  realities. 


12  LILY 

"I  don't  botheh  work,  work  don't  botheh  me, 
I'se  fo'  times  as  happy  as  a  bumble  bee — 
Eats  when  I  kin  git  it,  sleeps  mos'  all  de  time, 
I  don't  give  a  doggone  if  de  sun  don't  neveh  shine. 

"I  kin  ride  a  steamboat,  I  don't  pay  no  fare, 

I  kin  ride  a  steamboat  anywhere — 

Dat's  de  reason  I'se  as  happy  as  a  bee, 

Me  an*  Lily's  Memphis  bound, — Memphis,  Ten-o-see." 

For  an  hour  the  Wilddat  slept.  A  velvet 
footed  bootlegger,  prowling  through  the  shipi 
with  a  rush  order  for  one  of  the  engineers  on 
duty  at  that  hour,  passed  the  sleeping  figure  and 
accorded  him  an  intent  look.  With  his  pro 
fessional  duty  accomplished  for  the  moment  the 
bootlegging  person  retraced  his  steps  and  when 
he  came  again  to  the  sleeping  Wildcat  he  halted 
long  enough  to  sweep  the  recumbent  figure  with 
a  fan  of  light  from  the  end  of  an  electric  torch. 
The  Wildcat  mumbled  in  his  sleep  when  the 
light  fell  upon  his  face.  "Eats  when  I  kin  git 
it,  sleeps  mos'  all  de  time — " 

In  the  dark  the  bootlegger  stooped  over  and  un 
fastened  the  three  upper  buttons  of  the  Wild 
cat's  vest.  "Sure  handy  for  me  that  you  do." 

The  bootlegger's  hand  came  back  from  the 
vicinity  of  the  Wildcat's  left-hand  pocket  clutch 
ing  a  moist  roll  of  greenbacks.  Five  seconds 


LILY  13 

later  the  Wildcat's  right-hand  pocket  had  been 
relieved  of  its  contents,  and  then  with  the  cash 
prize  safely  in  his  possession  the  agent  of  OP 
Man  Trouble  fled  noiselessly  along  the  steel 
deck  until  he  came  to  a  companion-way  up  which 
he  escaped. 

This  was  new  stuff  to  the  mascot  goat.  It 
seemed  to  Lily  that  perhaps  the  business  of  ab 
stracting  green  slips  of  paper  from  her  master's 
inside  pocket  might  be  right  and  regular,  and 
then  it  occurred  to  her  that  perhaps  the  Wildcat 
would  be  interested  in  the  process.  She  bleated 
faintly  once  or  twice  in  an  effort  to  awaken  her 
master  and  failing  in  this  she  lowered  her  head 
and  rammed  him  once  heartily  in  the  vicinity 
of  his  hip  pocket. 

"Blaa-a!     Wake  up!" 

"Goat,  lay  off  me!  What  you  mean 
bustin'  mah  sleep  in  two.  Fo'  two  bits  I'd  sell 
you  to  some  farm  boy  whah  you  could  kill  yo'se'f 


eatin'." 


The  mention  of  the  two  bits  reminded  the 
Wildcat  of  the  ponderous  fortune  which  Lady 
Luck  had  showered  upon  him.  Mechanically 
his  right  hand  sought  the  pockets  of  his  vest 
which  had  so  lately  bulged  with  currency. 

"Lawd    gawd!     How    come!     Lemme    see. 


14  LILY 

Wuz  I  dreamin'  money — no  suh !  Dat  wuz  real. 
Had  me  dem  greenbacks.  Heah  I  is  wid  no 
more  cash  dan  a  vet7  ran  has  bonus.  Somebody 


met  me." 


He  looked  around  him  in  the  half  light.  For 
a  moment  he  was  on  the  point  of  raising  an 
alarm  and  then,  realizing  the  futility  of  such 
a  course,  he  succumbed  to  the  poor  consolation 
of  singeing  Lady  Luck's  tail  feathers  with  enough 
red  hot  language  to  melt  the  north  pole. 

"Leave  me  meet  dat  woman!  Dat's  all  I 
craves.  Heah  us  is  'cept  fo'  de  shoe  five,  plum' 
bust!  No  mo'  cash  dan  a  fish  has  feet.  .  •  . 
Wish  oP  Cap'n  Jack  was  wid  me." 

It  took  all  of  five  minutes  for  the  old-time 
philosophy  to  rise  superior  to  his  misfortune* 
"Easy  come,  easy  go.  Neveh  seed  no  easy  money 
yet  whut  wuz  mixed  wid  glue.  No  money  neveh 
sticks  'less  you  mixes  it  wid  sweat.  Kaint  do 
no  prancin'  now  when  us  gits  to  Memphis. 
Aimed  to  prance  some  befo'  I  settles  down  wid 
ol'  Cap'n  Jack.  Dis  means  us  does  de  askin* 
'stead  of  de  tellin' — dat's  all."  He  looked  down 
at  his  mascot  goat.  "Goat,  who  eveh  tol'  you 
you  is  a  kin  to  luck*?  'Cept in'  I  might  need  you 
fo'  eatin'  purposes  I  barbecues  you  right  now 
and  scatters  you  to  de  fish,  Don't  tell  me  you 


LILY  15 

brings  luck, — you  is  plain  hoodoo.  OP  Man 
.Trouble  is  yo'  pussonal  pappy." 

Thereafter  for  ten  minutes  the  Wildcat  sogged 
down  in  a  crumpled  heap  on  the  deck  and  nursed 
his  grief.  "Doggone  dis  money  bizness, — money 
ain't  nuthin'  'less  you  spends  it.  Jes'  havin' 
money  don't  mean  no  mo'  dan  havin'  a  race  horse 
wid  a  busted  laig, — 'less  you  races  him 
he  ain't  no  race  horse.  'Less  you  spends  yo' 
money  when  you  gits  it  it  ain't  money  no  mo'  dan 
a  egg  is  fried  chicken.  .  .  .  Lady  Luck,  heah  us  is. 
I  craves  me  one  redeemin'  slug  of  strengthenin' 
gin.  I  feels  low." 

Forthwith,  slowly  and  painfully,  with  his  bat 
tered  philosophy  heaving  under  the  dead  weight 
of  the  recent  financial  calamity,  the  Wildcat 
struggled  to  his  feet.  Leading  Lily,  he  began 
a  prowl  in  search  of  alcoholic  optimism.  He 
wandered  forward,  stepping  high  over  the  sills 
of  two  bulkheads,  until  he  came  to  the  crew's 
quarters.  Here,  about  one  end  of  a  long  table, 
were  gathered  six  poker-playing  members  of  the 
Dog  Watch.  The  Wildcat  knew  enough  about 
poker  to  delay  his  interruption  until  the  last  hand 
of  the  deal  was  revealed.  When  this  had  been 
accomplished  he  voiced  his  plaint.  He  aimed 
it  in  the  general  direction  of  the  game  but  he 


16  LILY 

addressed  no  one  in  particular :  "Cap'n  suh,  could 
yo'  all  tell  me  whah  us  could  'cumulate  a  slug 
o'  likker?' 

"What's  that?" 

"The  misery  is  trompHn'  me.  Us  craves  mebbe 
two  slugs  o'  gin  to  help  us  live  till  de  sun 
shines." 

"All  the  white  mule  you  want  at  two  bits  a 
slug  right  across  from  the  pier  where  we  are 
tied  up." 

"You  mean  dat  Happy  Home  place4?" 

"That's  it.  Get  all  you  want  there  unless 
the  raiding  squad  has  made  its  evening  visit." 

The  Wildcat  resolved  to  take  a  chance  on  -the 
police.  He  mounted  the  steel  stairway  with 
Lily  leaping  behind  him,  and  in  the  shadows  of 
the  long  interior  of  the  pier  against  which  the 
Empire  lay  he  made  his  way  toward  his  goal. 
Midway  of  the  pier  he  stopped  and  from  a 
recess  in  his  shoe  he  fished  the  lone  fragment  of 
the  night's  accumulation  of  cash, — a  five-dollar 
bill,  stored  there  with  an  instinct  derived  from 
long  years  of  experience  with  the  whims  of  Lady 
Luck.  With  the  currency  clenched  in  his  hand 
he  trotted  across  the  wide  cobbled  area  of  the 
Embarcadero.  With  Lily  at  his  heels,  he  headed 
for  the  bright  lights  above  which  hung  the  name 


LILY  17 

plate  of  the  New  Home  institution  where  cigars, 
cigarettes,  coffee  and  soft  drinks  could  be  dis 
dained  by  those  who  were  able  to  overcome  the 
bartender's  denial  of  illicit  possessions. 

In  the  Happy  Home,  weaving  under  the  cor 
rugated  reflectors  that  threw  back  the  light  from 
the  red  incandescents,  was  a  dancing  group  of 
men  and  women  of  the  Wildcat's  color.  On  a 
platform  facing  the  bar  a  four-piece  orchestra, 
led  by  a  slip-horn  artist,  crooned  a  rhythm  whose 
intermittent  reverberations  were  scarcely  audible 
outside  of  the  walls  of  the  building.  In  his  de 
mands  the  Wildcat  modulated  his  voice  until  it 
approximated  the  tones  of  the  whispering  orches 
tra.  "Us  craves  gin.  I'se  a  Memphis  boy  sailin* 
on  de  Empire.  Craves  gin  bad, — ben  hit  heavy 
wid  grief." 

The  proprietor  of  the  place,  serving  behind 
the  bar,  gave  the  Wildcat  a  long  look,  and  then, 
without  the  preliminary  motion  of  uncorking  a 
bottle  and  pouring  a  drink  therefrom  being  visible 
above  the  bar  except  in  a  slight  undulation  of 
the  shoulder  muscles  of  his  right  arm,  he  set  a 
glass  in  front  of  the  Wildcat.  The  glass  was  an 
ordinary  tumbler  and  it  was  filled  nearly  to  the 
brim  with  a  clear  white  liquid.  "Four  bits." 

The  Wildcat  flicked  the  five-dollar  bill  across 

\ 


18  LILY 

the  bar  in  response  to  the  demand  and  almost 
before  the  greenback  had  quit  sliding  the  cargo 
of  cheering  liquor  had  splashed  its  way  down  to 
the  cheer-craver's  equator. 

The  Wildcat  batted  his  eyes  five  times  in  suc 
cession  and  then  squinted  them  in  an  ecstasy  of 
doubt  which  endured  for  five  seconds.  Then  on 
his  face  bloomed  a  wide  smile  studded  with  glit 
tering  teeth. 

"Hot  dam!  Sho'  noble  likker,  Shoot  de  otheh 
barrel." 

The  second  barrel  of  the  gin  gun  was  fired  and 
another  fifty-cent  piece  nestled  in  the  cash  register 
of  the  Happy  Home. 

The  Wildcat  looked  around  him  and  his  eyes 
fell  on  the  trombone  player  who  at  the  moment 
was  reaching  almost  to  the  ceiling  for  a  low  note. 
"Lawd  gawd,  look  at  dat  agile  boy  reapin'  de 
rags.  Lily,  as  you  is,  whilst  I  sees  does  mah  feet 
track." 

The  Wildcat  stepped  a  pace  from  the  bar  and 
led  his  feet  down  a  dog-walk  lane  until  he  was 
satisfied  as  to  their  tracking  abilities.  "Dey 
remembers  whut  I  learned  'em.  Wish  dese  dawg- 
gone  shoes  was  soft, — I  might  unkink  a  step." 

He  turned  again  to  the  bar  and  another  fifty- 


LILY  19 

cent  piece  clicked  its  message  to  the  proprietor 
of  the  Happy  Home.  The  Wildcat  straightened 
to  his  full  height  to  give  his  third  drink  a  clear 
track.  "Whuff !  Lady  Luck,  I  hears  you  singin' 
soft  an'  low.  Three  strikes  an'  out  fo'  OF  Man 
Trouble.  Sho'  is  noble  likker."  He  turned  to 
the  bartender.  "Whut  name  does  it  go  by?" 
"Dat's  plain  mule, — plain  white  mule." 
By  the  time  the  Wildcat  had  purchased  an 
other  span  of  plain  white  mules  the  ceiling  lights 
were  glowing  crimson  and  the  laughing  trombone 
was  a  mile  away.  When  the  last  fragment  of 
the  five-dollar  bill  had  been  spent  the  Wildcat 
was  suddenly  engulfed  in  a  tidal  wave  sprinkled 
with  earthquakes.  With  the  mascot  goat  be 
side  him  he  reclined  on  a  chair  in  the  corner  of 
the  room.  For  a  while  he  watched  the  undulat 
ing  procession  of  weaving  contortionists  passing 
in  review  before  him  and  then,  with  his  lower 
jaw  sagging  something  less  than  a  foot,  he  was 
asleep  and  a  million  miles  away  from  the  slings 
and  arrows  with  which  OP  Man  Trouble  chas 
tised  the  favorite  of  Lady  Luck  whenever  he  got 
a  chance. 

Midway  of  the  Wildcat's  dreaming  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  laughing  trombone  indulged  in 


20  LILY 

a  raucous  note.  Subconsciously  he  wondered 
"How  come  the  easy  playin'  slip-horn  boy  so 
loud." 

It  was  not  the  trombone  however  which  had 
boomed  the  heavy  note  into  the  dawn,  but  the 
clearing  signal  from  the  siren  of  the  New  Orleans 
bound  Empire. 

When  the  Wildcat  awakened  the  ship  that 
would  have  carried  him  to  New  Orleans  on  the 
first  leg  of  his  journey  back  to  Captain  Jack  was 
fifty  miles  clear  of  the  Golden  Gate. 

"Lady  Luck,  heah  us  is.  Whuff !  Sho'  craves 
me  some  cold  drinkin'  wateh.  Come  'long,  Lily. 
I  feels  blazin'  inside." 


CHAPTER   II 


THROUGH  the  long  morning  hours  the 
Wildcat  plodded  his  way  toward  Lincoln 
Park  where,  from  experience  born  of  the 
immediate  past,  he  knew  that  golf-shooting  gentle 
men  provided  silver  enough,  in  return  for  caddy 
service,  to  enable  a  boy  to  eat. 

"Come  'long,  Lily,  us  craves  rations.  De  only 
way  you  gits  nutrified  in  dis  town  is  wid  money. 
Us  lugs  a  li'l  bag  'roun'  an'  roun'  fo'  de  white 
folks  an'  gits  a  doll  ah, — den  us  eats  heavy.  Seems 
like  I  ain't  et  fo'  de  longest  time." 

The  enterprise  was  successful  and  in  the  early 
evening  the  Wildcat,  in  possession  of  a  dollar, 
sought  to  smother  his  troubles  in  a  ration-gorg 
ing  contest  at  a  table  in  a  Sutter  Street  restaurant 
much  frequented  by  members  of  his  race. 

Some  craves  possum,  some  craves  ham, 
Pusson'lly  I  don't  give  a  damn, — 
Jes'  so  it's  nllin' — 'at's  all  I  care, 
Catfish,    rabbit,   cinnamon   bear. 
21 


22  LILY 

Ain't  no  leavin's  when  I  feeds, 
Stummick  an'  appetite's  all  I  needs. 
Lemme  eat  till  I  eats  my  fill — 
Long  as  I  kin  pay  de  bill. 
Gimme  room  an'  start  me  fust, — 
I'll  be  eatin'  when  de  otheh  boy's  bust. 

Across  the  table  from  the  Wildcat,  full  to  the 
neck  and  treading  water  until  his  grub-gorging 
acquaintance  might  bust  his  pussonal  stummick, 
sat  a  new-found  friend  who,  inspired  by  a  little 
streak  of  luck,  had  declared  himself  the  Wild 
cat's  host  for  the  evening.  The  friendship  had 
ripened  when  the  Wildcat  had  recited  a  record 
of  his  valorous  days  in  the  A.  E.  F.  and  after  he 
had  followed  it  with  a  recital  of  his  subsequent 
adventures.  "Dat's  all,  Gimlet.  Heah  us  is, 
waitin'  fo'  Lady  Luck  to  rally  'round." 

The  Wildcat  swept  a  piece  of  bread  around 
his  plate  and  carried  it  to  his  munching  jaws. 
"How  come  folks  calls  you  Gimlet*?" 

"De  boys  called  me  dat  fust  becuz  I  wuz  so 
spindlin'  built." 

For  the  time  being,  as  far  as  absorbing  rations 
was  concerned,  the  spindling  built  host  was  only 
a  passive  witness  whose  bulging  eyes  surmounted 
a  stomach  bulging  with  food. 

The  Wildcat  continued  to  eat.     Gimlet,  with 


LILY  23 

the  normal  anxiety  of  a  host,  reached  into  his 
pocket  from  time  to  time  and  audited  his  cash 
resources.  Without  knowing  the  exact  figures, 
it  appeared  to  Gimlet  that  the  Wildcat  was  eat 
ing  pretty  close  to  the  red  side  of  the  ledger. 
On  his  own  money  a  boy  had  a  perfect  right  to 
eat  the  lining  out  of  his  pocketbook,  but  where  a 
host  was  introduced  into  the  equation  it  seemed 
to  Gimlet  that  the  victim  of  the  cash  register's 
ringing  knell  was  entitled  to  a  little  considera 
tion. 

He  sought  to  distract  the  Wildcat  from  his 
munching  orgy  with  conversation.  The  Wildcat 
synchronized  a  series  of  grunts  to  the  regular  mo 
tion  of  his  lower  jaw.  Beyond  this  concession 
no  evidence  was  available  to  prove  that  the  Wild 
cat's  ears  were  functioning  except  as  overhang 
ing  wings  to  steady  the  owner's  cranium  against 
the  regular  impact  of  sixteen  lower  teeth. 

After  an  hour  of  the  innocent  bystander  busi 
ness  Gimlet  resolved  to  use  force.  "One  mo' 
fried  liveh, — one  mo'  fish, — one  mo'  ham  wid 
gravy, — one  more  enything  an'  I  busts  you  in 
de  haid.  Mebbe  you  is  human  on  de  outside  but 
you  sho'  shows  hog  blood  from  de  skin  down. 
Wilecat,  befo'  I  kills  you  I  tells  you  one  mo' 
time  to  quit.  Den  I  busts  you  wid  a  chair  befo' 


24  LILY 

you  gits  us  'rested  'count  o'  me  not  havin'  enough 
money  to  pay  de  bill." 

Bam!  Gimlet's  fist  hit  the  table  and  his 
voice  lifted  to  Lily's  startled  bleating.  "Wile- 
cat,  fo'  de  las'  time  I  tells  you,  quit  befo'  I 
quits  you!  Heah  us  is, — me  wid  two  dollahs 
an'  you  wid  one,  an'  de  las'  I  knowed  as  near  as 
I  could  rigger  you  owes  de  restaurant  boy  fo' 
fifty.  Mebbe  you  craves  to  work  out  two  dol 
lahs  in  jail, — not  me.  I  tells  you, — quit  befo' 
dey  sends  fo'  de  police." 

The  Wildcat's  ears  wiggled  a  slight  acknowl 
edgment,  but  he  continued  to  eat  for  five  minutes. 
Then,  "Whuff !"— and  the  Wildcat  quit. 

He  blinked  heavily  at  Gimlet.  "Boy,  how 
come  you  gits  so  agitated  jes'  'cause  liveh  an' 
ham  is  so  popular  wid  mah  pussonal  stummick*? 
He  fished  around  in  his  pocket  and  his  hand 
came  out  clutching  a  five-dollar  bill.  "You 
thinks  us  is  bust.  Us  ain't." 

Now,  across  the  table,  Gimlet's  eyes  did  some 
bulging.  "How  come  you  has  dis  frog  skin 
money?" 

"When  de  golf  playin'  man  lef  me  he  says, 
"Wilecat,  you  sho'  done  noble  workin'  on  de 
golf  links,"  and  he  gimme  dis  heah  five  dollah 
present  'long  wid  de  dollah  wages.  Dat's  de 


LILY  25 

reason  me  and  Lily  eats  whilst  you  'dulges  yo' 
neck  wid  words  'stead  o'  rations.  Does  a  boy 
crave  to  talk  'at's  his  bizness.  I  always  kin 
talk, — kaint  always  eat.  In  rest' rants  me  an' 
Lily  eats." 

The  five-dollar  bill  reacted  on  Gimlet's  ap 
petite.  A  moment  before  he  was  sure  that  he 
was  fed  up  to  the  neck.  Now  he  was  equally 
positive  that  he  was  the  victim  of  a  famine. 
Visions  of  gravy  dripping  from  great  slices  of 
ham  half  concealed  by  three  or  four  splattered 
eggs  came  to  his  mind.  His  imagination  leaped 
up  the  ladder  of  possibilities  until  it  touched  the 
chicken  department. 

"Wilecat,  has  you  et  plenty4?  Kaint  you  eat 
jes'  a  li'l  bit  mo"?" 

"I  neveh  has  et  plenty.  I  wuz  bawn  un-et  an* 
I'se  been  at  way  eveh  since.  I  kin  always  eat 


mo'." 


Gimlet's  memory  galloped  back  through  the 
years  of  his  past  and  fastened  upon  some  of  the 
texts  to  which  he  had  been  exposed  during  the 
religious  revivals  which  were  epidemic  in  the 
country  of  his  youth.  From  the  words  of  the 
fur-bearing  prophets  he  culled  a  series  of  texts 
to  reinforce  his  new  arguments.  "Wilecat,  heah 
us  is, — heah  to-day  an'  gone  to-morrow.  Eat 


26  LILY 

when  you  kin  git  it, — dat's  my  motto.  What  de 
preacheh  say  'bout  howsomeveh  a  man  standeth 
wid  his  foot  on  de  banana  peel  an7  great  is  de 
fall  thereof — no  tellin'  jes'  whut  minute  sump- 
thin'  happen  to  you.  I  claims  whilst  us  has  yo' 
five  dollah  bill  us  ought  to  eat.  How  'bout  some 
chicken?' 

Gimlet  had  landed  on  the  one  item  which 
could  promote  a  resumption  of  the  Wildcat's 
gustatory  activity.  "Chicken!  I'll  say  so! 
Chicken  is  de  gratifyinist  animal  whut  is.  You 
eats  'em  all  de  time, — in  de  egg  befo'  dey's  bawn 
an'  afteh  dey's  daid." 

Ten  minutes  later  a  dejected  looking  fowl  had 
been  transported  to  the  table.  Thereafter  for  a 
little  while  conversation  ceased.  Then,  with  his 
back  teeth  full  of  chicken,  Gimlet  explored  the 
recess  of  his  open  mouth  and  hauled  forth  a  wish 
bone  which  had  once  adorned  the  skeletal  struc 
ture  of  the  recent  victim  of  the  feast.  "Heah's 
de  wishbone, — see  who  gits  de  luck.  Take  dat 
end.  I  keeps  hold  o'  dis.  Ready.  Short  man 
wins.  Pull !" 

Snap!  The  Wildcat  pulled  the  long  end. 
"Doggone,  Lady  Luck!  Whah  at  is  you1?" 

"You  loses  mi  thin'  but  yo'  luck.     You  got  de 


LILY  27 

chicken  ain't  you,  an'  de  five  dollah  bill.  Pay 
de  boy  an'  le's  go." 

The  Wildcat  stood  up.  "To-morrow  I  takes 
you  to  de  golf  links  an'  mebbe  us  'cumulates  five 
mo'  dollahs.  Den  us  comes  back  heah.  Dat 
chicken  sho'  was  noble." 

"Naw  suh!  Wilecat,  git  some  otheh  boy  fo' 
dat  golf  bizness  wid  dem  golf  playin'  gemmum. 
Sho'  grieves  me  to  leave  you  an'  Lily  but  bizness 
befo'  pleasure,  dat's  my  motto.  I'se  busy  wid 
mah  bizness  f'm  now  on.  Gits  two  fo'  one. 
I'se  in  de  chu'ch  bizness.  Pays  betteh  dan  golf. 
I  tol*  you  'bout  de  chu'ch  what's  been  instigated 
in  Oaklan'.  Las'  week  the  yaller  preacheh  whut 
started  de  chu'ch  took  up  a  buildin'  fund.  Us 
early  joiners  gits  two  fo'  one.  You  puts  up  a 
dollah  an'  draws  out  two  de  month  afteh.  Us 
active  members  contribute  fifty  dollahs  apiece  an* 
nex'  month  us  draws  out  a  hund'ed." 

"Whah  at's  de  money  come  f'm  to  pay  you?" 

"Boy  sells  some  mo'  stock  in  de  chu'ch." 

"You  sounds  like  a  fool." 

"Mebbe  I  is.  I  banks  on  de  preacheh.  OP 
head  boy  acts  like  he  knows  whut  he's  doin'. 
He's  paid  high  as  ten- to-one  on  some  o'  de  chu'ches 
he  started  in  Tennessee." 


28  LILY 

"Whut  part  o'  Tennessee  does  he  act  like*?" 

"Acts  like  a  Memphis  boy, — 'ceptin'  he  ain't 
so  tame." 

"Tall  skinny  boy?' 

"MiddlinV 

"Long  black  coat  an'  yaller  shoes?" 

"You  knows  him?" 

"Slouch  hat  an'  a  big  mouf  full  o'  white  folks 
words?" 

"  'At's  him." 

"I'll  say  I  knows  him.  Gimlet,  I'se  got  dis 
heah  goat  whut  I  wouldn't  trade  fo'  a  million 
dollahs,  but  I  bets  Lily  dat  de  head  o'  yo'  bizness 
is  dat  upliftin'  Honeytone  Boone.  Seems  like 
whah  at  I  goes  dat  boy's  on  mah  trail.  Fust  I 
meets  up  wid  him  in  France  whah  us  boys  in 
de  Fust  Service  Battalion  got  exposed  to  his 
preachin'  up  to  de  time  me  an'  de  Backslid 
Baptis'  cleaned  him  wid  de  bones.  Den  he 
comes  back  to  Memphis  an'  got  himself  'gaged 
to  marry  Miss  Cuspidora  Lee.  He  played  dat 
way  till  he  meets  up  wid  his  wife.  Las'  I 
knowed  he  was  headed  fo'  jail  afteh  leavin'  me 
wid  de  Temple  of  Luck  on  mah  hands.  'At 
sho'  is  Honeytone.  You  betteh  bid  yo'  money 
goodbye.  Chances  is  he  lef'  Oakland  de  same 
day  you  boys  donates." 


LILY  29 

"Wilecat,  I  starts  afteh  dat  boy  now.  I  knows 
whah  at  I  kin  locate  him.  When  I  meets  up 
wid  him  I  barbecues  him.  Mebbe  I  don't  cut 
him  up  complete  but  anyway  I  carves  mah  fifty 
dollahs'  wuth  of  meat  loose  f'm  his  carcass. 
Nex'  time  I  sees  you,  Wilecat,  I  has  mah  fifty 
dollahs  or  else  fo'  pounds  o'  steak  whut  I  carves 
off  f'm  dat  Honey  tone  nigger." 


I  heah  you  grieve,  I  heah  you  sigh 
You  spent  yo'  money  wild  an'  free — 
You  betteh  leave.     Bid  me  goodbye, 
You  ain't  spent  none  on  me. 
Be  on  yo'  way — jes'  say  farewell — 
Ramble,  'cause  I'se  locked  de  door. 
You  blew  yo'  pay — now  go  to  hell, 
An'  don't  come  back  no  more. 

(Miss  Cuspidora  Lee  to  Honey  tone.) 

Honeytone  Boone  headed  west  from  Memphis 
at  a  rate  which  kept  him  one  state  ahead  of  his 
reputation  and  landed  him  finally  in  Oakland. 
En  route,  with  the  ease  of  a  skin-sluffing  snake, 
he  changed  his  name  wherever,  for  the  moment, 
he  might  be  located. 

Arrived  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  festooned  in  a 
Prince  Albert  coat  and  all  of  the  external  para- 


30  LILY 

phernalia  of  a  brunet  soul-snatcher,  he  drifted 
to  a  distant  corner  of  Oakland  in  search  of  a 
congregation  upon  whom  he  might  shower  the  up 
lifting  influence  of  his  pay-as-you-enterprise. 

On  the  week  following  Honeytone's  arrival, 
when  the  political  leaders  of  the  Bourbon  Party 
were  wrestling  with  the  problem  of  selecting 
some  champion  in  whose  hands  the  destiny  of 
the  state  might  be  placed,  one  of  their  scouts  dis 
covered  Honeytone  perspiring  copiously  and 
lecturing  an  improvised  religion  into  the  quiver 
ing  ears  of  a  hypnotized  brunet  congregation. 
The  political  scout,  out  for  whatever  brunet 
votes  might  be  swung  from  the  Old  Line,  ap 
proached  Honeytone  at  the  close  of  his  sermon. 
"Mister  speaker,  what's  your  politics?" 

Honeytone,  flattered,  launched  into  an  elabo 
rate  statement  of  his  political  philosophy.  Start 
ing  with  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happen 
ings,  he  rambled  through  an  incoherent  recital 
of  the  vocabulary  which  he  had  absorbed  at  the 
college  where  he  traded  common  sense  for  a 
superficial  education. 

Midway  of  his  discourse  the  politician  inter 
rupted  him.  "You've  got  some  influence  with 
these  fellows  in  your  church  here.  Stand  up  and 


LILY  31 

preach  a  line  of  our  policies  into  them  and  you 
get  twenty  dollars  a  day  for  it." 

Honeytone  would  have  preached  anything 
for  twenty  dollars  a  day.  He  immediately  ne 
gotiated  a  verbal  contract  for  two  days'  cash  in 
advance.  Thereafter  his  several  audiences  which 
had  rallied  for  a  shot  of  fire-proof  religion  went 
away  carrying  some  of  the  political  complexities 
of  Honeytone's  heated  intellect. 

On  the  third  night  he  warmed  up  to  his  sub 
ject  and  polished  up  his  list  of  stock  phrases, 
and  with  the  song  of  his  words  hypnotizing  the 
ears  of  another  politician,  Honeytone's  vocab 
ulary  won  a  home.  The  scout  filed  his  report 
with  the  Committee  on  Orators  and  Honeytone 
was  summoned  to  a  larger  field  of  effort  in  San 
Francisco. 

Addressing  his  new  congregation,  on  the  day 
following  Gimlet's  departure  in  search  of  four 
pounds  of  the  meat  of  revenge,  Honeytone  en 
gaged  himself  in  putting  his  vocal  organs  over 
the  water-jump  in  the  interest  of  the  political 
party  which  had  hired  him.  Meanwhile,  just 
above  his  galloping  tongue,  his  bump  of  self- 
importance  enlarged  under  the  clattering  impact 
of  his  own  voice.  At  the  conclusion  of  his  mental 


32  LILY 

flight  the  mantle  of  self-satisfaction  settled  com 
fortably  about  his  shoulders.  With  the  pur 
chased  applause  that  reached  his  ears  came  the 
pride  which  goeth  before  a  fall. 

3 

How  come  you  leave  me,  Honeytone? 
Ain't  de  money   I  craves — it's  you. 
Tell  me  to  mah  face,  don't  telephone — 
Jes'  tell  me  why  you  blew. 

When  I  mentions  dat  wile  boy's  name 
Tell  me  whah  at  does  he  roam, — 
Den  tell  his  folks  to  come  an'  claim 
De  leavin's — an'  to  haul  'em  home. 

In  Oakland  the  meat  hunting  Gimlet  prowled 
around  on  the  trail  of  the  departed  Honeytone. 
The  invariable  result  of  Gimlet's  inquiries  were 
answers  to  the  effect  that  Honeytone  had  left 
for  unknown  fields  of  effort  wherein  he  might 
practice  the  beneficent  philosophy  which,  when 
applied  to  the  brunet  portion  of  the  human  race, 
invariably  resulted  in  a  hypnotic  trance  that  left 
the  victim  long  on  ideas  and  short  on  cash.  At 
a  barber  shop  where  the  religious  leader  was 
wont  to  trade  a  little  uplifting  language  for  an 
occasional  shave  the  proprietor  of  the  establish 
ment  informed  him  that  the  soul-snatcher  had  de- 


LILY  33 

parted  for  San  Francisco.  "De  boy  claims  de 
Bourbons  crave  to  have  him  speak  at  a  big 
meetin'  dis  afternoon  an7  again  to-night." 
All  de  Old  Line  niggers  in  San  F'mcisco  meets 
in  de  street  'longside  de  Palace  Hotel  whah  at 
dey  hold  a  gran'  rally  whilst  de  white  folks  talks 
it  oveh  in  de  banquet  room  inside  de  hotel. 
Does  you  know  Honeytone*?" 

"I  knows  him  fifty  dollahs  wuth  whut  I  'vested 
in  de  new  chu'ch.  Palace  Hotel,  you  say*?" 

"I  says.  Chances  is  you  meet  up  wid  him 
right  now." 

"Fse  on  mah  way." 

Gimlet,  seeking  a  forced  refunding  of  his  in 
vestment,  left  the  barber  shop  and  started  for 
San  Francisco. 


CHAPTER   III 

AT  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  on  the 
day   following  his  first  meeting  with 
Gimlet,   gorged  on  thirty-six  holes  of 
golf  at  Lincoln  Park,  the  Wildcat  left  his  two 
golf  players  and  decided  to  call  it  a  day. 

His  duties  ended,  with  Lily  at  his  heels,  he 
retraced  the  length  of  the  eighteenth  fairway 
until  he  came  to  the  wooded  space  between  the 
eighteenth  tee  and  the  seventeenth  green.  Here 
was  a  place  to  rest.  Rest  to  the  Wildcat  was 
ever  welcome.  He  flopped  down  in  the  shade 
of  a  row  of  cedars  and  for  a  while  his  eyes  rested 
on  Lily  who  was  engaged  in  cutting  the  grass 
with  her  front  teeth.  "Go  'head,  'sorb  yo'  ra 
tions  while  the  'sorbin'  is  free.  Some  day  you 
gits  whah  they  ain't  nuthin'  but  sand.  Den  you 
misses  dis  green  grass.  Sho'  is  a  noble  country. 

"I  eats  when  I  kin  git  it — 
I  sleeps  mos*  all  de  time — " 

Presently  the  sunlight  striking  low  along  the 

34 


LILY  35 

ground  warmed  the  Wildcat  and  sleep  came  to 
him.  Lily  foraged  for  a  while  near  her  master 
and  then,  in  widening  circles,  her  exploring  ap 
petite  sought  the  greener  pastures  that  stretched 
to  the  edges  of  the  seventeeth  green.  Here  was 
dessert,  and  for  a  while  the  mascot  partook  of 
French  pastry  and  ice  cream  disguised  as  green 
and  succulent  grass.  Her  early  mathematical 
training  was  completely  forgotten  and  for  the 
time  she  ate  as  if  the  lawn  had  length  and 
breadth  but  no  thickness.  Finally  with  a  faint 
bleat  she  sought  her  siesta.  In  the  dark  shadows 
of  a  wooded  area,  lying  back  a  little  way  from 
the  terrain  of  her  foraging  expedition,  she  pene 
trated  a  growth  of  brush  which  lay  in  her  path. 
Then  she  dived  into  the  obscurity  of  a  space 
about  which  ranged  the  dark  trunks  of  a  hundred 
branching  cedars.  In  this  sanctuary  the  mascot 
suffered  the  surprise  of  her  life.  She  saw  a 
pair  of  phosphorescent  green  eyes  set  in  a  long 
head.  The  eyes  glowed  a  foot  from  the  ground. 
Back  of  the  eyes,  stretching  its  sinuous  length, 
lay  a  serpentine  neck  which  bridged  the  gulf 
from  the  head  of  the  unknown  to  its  massive 
body. 

Before  vision  and  understanding  had  accom 
plished  in  her  eyes  Lily  gave  vent  to  her  fright. 


36  LILY 

A  hundred  feet  away  from  Her  the  Wildcat, 
sleeping  soundly,  received  on  his  subconscious 
tympanum  his  mascot's  call  for  help.  He  con 
tinued  to  sleep. 

In  a  moment  Lily's  eyes  widened  to  the  ob 
scurity  about  her.  Then  she  saw  that  from  the 
serpentine  neck  bulged  a  large  irregular  body 
from  which  extended  four  ungainly  legs  and  a 
tail.  The  tail  was  minus  hair  except  for  a  tuft 
at  its  extremity.  It  was  then  that  Lily  thanked 
the  gods  of  the  goat  world  that  here  before  her 
was  a  mule  and  not  a  nightmare.  Lily  knew 
mules.  Her  prayer  of  thankfulness  was  uttered 
in  a  series  of  bleats  which  carried  to  the  Wild 
cat's  ears.  Still  the  Wildcat  slept.  He  was 
good  at  sleeping. 

The  bleats  served  only  to  awaken  a  mild  curi 
osity  in  the  phosphorescent  green  eyes  that  bulged 
from  the  mule's  cranium.  For  a  week  the  mule 
had  enjoyed  the  solitude  of  his  fastness.  Here 
was  an  annoying  interruption.  He  brayed 
loudly.  "Shut  up!  Let  a  fellow  rest,  can't 
you4?  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  here*?" 

Lily  answered  him  in  goat  language. 
"Blaa-a!  This  is  a  public  park.  I've  as  much 
right  here  as  you  have." 

The  mule  shifted  his  position  slightly  in  order 


LILY.  37 

to  display  the  official  brand  on  a  left  hind  leg. 
"U.  S. — see  that?"  he  brayed.  "I'm  a  govern 
ment  mule;  don't  monkey  with  the  government. 
That  U.  S.  means  un-safe, — stay  clear  of  that 
U.  S.  leg." 

The  mascot  was  on  the  point  of  voicing  her 
opinion  of  government  mules  in  general  and 
army  mules  in  particular  when  she  was  restrained 
by  a  realization  of  the  utter  futility  of  such  a 
course.  "What  are  you  doing  here  if  you're  an 
army  mule*?"  she  asked. 

The  government  mule  began  to  explain  in  pat 
ronizing  brays  that  his  presence  in  the  rest-area 
was  none  of  the  inquirer's  blasted  business. 
Then  a  thought  of  the  instability  of  human  insti 
tutions  came  to  him  and  his  tone  changed  to  terms 
of  official  courtesy.  "Your  inquiry  will  be  re 
ferred  to  the  Bureau  of  Personnel."  Something 
grandiloquent  and  sonorous  rang  in  the  tones  of 
the  government  mule.  He  flicked  his  tail  vio 
lently  and  began  to  shift  erasers  and  penholders 
around  on  the  desk  in  front  of  him. 

Lily  returned  a  caustic  observation :  "In  other 
words  you  don't  know  where  you're  at." 

The  army  mule  stopped  switching  his  tail  and 
brayed  a  reply.  Then  he  was  silent.  Action 
became  his  motto.  Lily  scented  trouble  and  beat 


38  LILY 

him  to  it.  Before  the  mule  could  launch  his 
attack  she  landed  heavily  upon  that  part  of  the 
U.  S.  bray  expert  which  was  the  last  to  get  up. 
With  a  bleat  of  triumph  the  mascot  galloped  to 
ward  the  exit  from  the  sheltering  cedars.  At 
her  heels,  lumbering  along  with  his  impediment 
of  official  dignity,  followed  the  mule.  Lily's 
course  took  her  directly  to  the  protecting  pres 
ence  of  the  Wildcat,  who  at  the  moment  was 
doing  the  best  he  could  to  add  another  million 
dollars  worth  of  sleep  to  that  which  had  gone 
before. 

The  procession,  going  sixty  miles  an  hour, 
reached  the  Wildcat's  side. 

"How  come!  What's  de  ruckus?"  The  Wild 
cat  sat  up  and  batted  his  eyes.  Lily,  advancing 
to  that  side  of  the  Wildcat  which  was  farthest 
away  from  the  U.  S.  mule,  explained  the  situa 
tion  as  best  as  she  could  with  a  series  of  staccato 
bleats. 

The  mule  caught  sight  of  the  Wildcat  and 
instantly  changed  his  tactics.  In  spite  of  his 
U.  S.  badge  worn  so  proudly  on  his  flank,  he 
realized  that  here  before  him  was  superior 
authority. 

The  mule  had  come  from  a  long  line  of  an 
cestors  whose  first  principle  in  life  was  to  rec- 


LILY  39 

ognize  ability  when  they  encountered  it.  The 
Wildcat  on  the  other  hand  never  doubted  his 
superiority  over  the  four-legged  assistants  which 
he  had  steered  on  long  cruises  over  the  broad 
fields  of  the  South. 

"Lily,  how  come!  Mule,  ca'm  yo'se'f  befo' 
I  busts  yo'  haid  off.  Turn  'roun'  theah."  The 
Wildcat  saw  the  brand  of  government  upon  the 
mule's  flank.  "U.  S. — how  come  you  leave  de 
ahmy  an'  go  roamin'  wild*?  I  spec'  you  is 
A.  W.  O.  L.  Comeovehheah!  Stan' still,  Stan' 
still  till  I  gits  back." 

The  mule  stood  still.  The  Wildcat  walked 
over  to  a  rusted  wire  fence  and  broke  there 
from  a  long  strand  of  wire.  By  repeated  twist- 
ings  and  bendings  he  secured  a  ten-foot  piece 
of  the  wire  and  with  this  he  returned  to  where 
Lily  was  standing  guard  near  the  mule's  head. 
The  Wildcat  bent  the  piece  of  wire  about  the 
mule's  neck  and  picked  up  the  loose  end  of  it, 
"Now  you's  captured,  you  doggone  deserter. 
Dis  is  de  hind  end  of  yoj  furlough,  I  spec'  de 
ahmy's  lookin'  fo'  you." 

The  Wildcat's  suspicions  were  correct.  The 
Army  was  busy  in  a  mad  endeavor  to  recover  its 
wandering  mule.  Down  the  road  in  the  Pre 
sidio  from  whence  the  mule  had  escaped  two 


40  LILY 

weeks  earlier,  privates  and  corporals  and  sergeants 
and  a  vast  array  of  officers  gave  no  small  part 
of  their  days  to  issuing  orders,  obeying  orders, 
passing  the  buck,  asking  questions  and  answer 
ing  them,  and  nearly  all  of  their  unusual  activity 
concerned  the  loss  of  the  official  mule.,  The 
mule  was  a  quartermaster-mule  which  had  been 
loaned,  without  receipt,  to  an  artillery  officer 
who  in  turn  had  loaned  him  informally  to  an 
engineer  officer  whose  sergeant  had  permitted  a 
corporal  to  let  a  private  ride  him. 

The  mule  was  about  to  become  a  National 
problem. 

The  only  satisfactory  solution  of  the  problem 
was  at  the  moment  walking  along  in  surrender 
at  the  end  of  a  piece  of  iron  fence-wire  which 
led  to  the  clutching  fingers  of  his  captor. 

The  Wildcat  vaguely  realized  that  the  Pre 
sidio  where  the  mule  belonged  was  somewhere 
within  walking  distance.  Once  before  in  his 
West  Coast  career  he  had  made  the  trip  to  the 
Presidio  starting  from  Market  Street,  and  now  he 
shaped  his  course  for  Market  Street,  intending  to 
use  that  recognized  landmark  as  a  point  of  de 
parture.  Thus  oriented  he  might  intelligently  re 
sume  his  exploration  toward  the  Presidio. 

Before   he   had   walked  two  blocks  he   had 


LILY  41 

realized  the  folly  of  pedal  exertion.  "How  come 
us  all  walks'?  Mule,  stan'  steady  'till  us  gits 
aboard.  Come  heah,  Lily.  Dis  jug-head  carries 
double  else  I  busts  him  wid  a  club." 

He  boosted  the  mascot  goat  to  a  position  on 
the  mule  and  made  a  wild  leap  to  the  mule's 
back.  A  vigorous  use  of  heels  and  violent  lan 
guage  eliminated  the  mule's  natural  indifference 
to  progress. 

It  was  six  o'clock  when  the  trio  drifted  into 
Market  Street. 

The  six  o'clock  traffic  interrupted  the  mule's 
meditation.  At  a  point  where  two  intersecting 
streets  cut  the  broad  central  thoroughfare,  traffic 
was  boiling  thickest,  and  it  was  here,  in  the 
throng  of  clanging  cars,  leaping  automobiles  and 
scurrying  pedestrians,  that  the  Wildcat  attempted 
to  aid  and  abet  the  mule's  judgment  of  traffic 
conditions  with  a  little  more  superheated  lan 
guage. 

"Mule,  /what  ails  you?  Go  ahead!"  The 
mule  went  ahead  only  to  escape  an  oncoming 
street  car.  "Look  out  for  dese  heah  cars,  dat's 
all  I  tells  you."'  The  mule  looked  out  for  three 
or  four  cars  and  then  met  another  down-town 
covey  heading  for  the  Ferry  Building. 

A  block  above  the  Palace  Hotel,  with  the 


42  LILY 

Wildcat  craning  his  neck  about  him  at  the  shop 
windows  and  digging  his  heels  into  the  mule's 
ribs,  and  with  Lily  perched  on  her  precarious 
roost  in  an  attitude  of  prayer,  the  mule  grazed 
a  bill-poster's  wagon  and  bounced  lightly  from 
a  flivver's  fender.  Then  the  brute  stepped  on 
his  mental  accelerator  and  made  the  next  hun 
dred  yards  in  a  gallop.  Thereafter  his  speed 
increased. 

Near  the  Palace  Hotel  the  animal's  velocity 
was  something  less  than  sixty  miles  a  second. 
Then,  blocking  the  cyclone's  progress,  there 
loomed  a  moving  van.  The  mule  swung  sharply 
to  the  right,  down  the  side  street  along  the  hotel. 

The  Wildcat  and  Lily  dived  straight  ahead 
to  the  pavement. 

About  the  side  entrance  to  the  hotel  was 
grouped  a  muttering  mass  of  brunet  humanity. 
In  his  headlong  dive  from  the  erratic  minded 
mule  the  Wildcat  caught  a  glimpse  of  several 
hundred  of  his  fellows,  prominent  among  whom 
was  Gimlet. 

Gimlet  had  located  his  victim, 

Lily,  landing  on  her  horns,  expressed  her 
opinion  of  mules  in  a  bleat  which  combined 
physical  distress  and  summary  of  the  day's  lesson 
in  profanity. 


LILY  43 

The  mule  charged  at  the  packed  mass  of  people 
before  him.  He  discovered  that  they  were  of 
the  Wildcat's  color  and  swerved  sharply  to  the 
right.  This  time,  with  three  wild  leaps,  he 
gained  the  entrance  to  the  hotel.  He  trotted 
meekly  through  the  lobby  and  across  the  wide 
corridor.  He  galloped  into  the  dining  room 
wherein  Honeytone  Boone  at  the  moment  was 
doing  the  best  he  could  to  assure  the  white  gentle 
men  ranged  around  the  banquet  tables  that  the 
local  representation  of  the  colored  race,  to  a  man, 
had  gone  Bourbon. 

With  the  entrance  of  the  galloping  mule 
Honeytone  lost  his  voice. 

The  runaway,  pursued  by  a  rising  chorus  which 
included  all  of  the  inflammatory  languages  of 
Southern  Europe,  penetrated  the  long  aisle  be 
tween  two  branches  of  a  horseshoe  table.  He 
stopped  suddenly  directly  in  front  of  Honey- 
tone  Boone.  The  flow  of  oratory  was  for  the 
moment  choked  by  the  rush  of  events. 

With  an  intelligence  superior  to  that  of  many 
individuals  of  the  human  race  who  had  listened 
to  Honeytone  the  mule  voiced  his  criticism  of 
the  speaker's  final  words  in  one  long  resonant 
bray. 

At  the  table  of  honor,  apart  from  the  speaker's 


44  LILY 

table,  a  heavy-set  gentleman  in  the  uniform  of 
an  officer  of  the  United  States  Army,  his  shoulders 
bright  with  the  silver  bars  of  his  rank,  smiled 
for  the  first  time  that  evening.  In  the  tumult 
about  him  the  Q.  M.  Lieutenant  was  the  only 
member  of  the  assemblage  who  enjoyed  enough 
self-control  to  sit  still  and  enjoy  the  show. 

Meanwhile  in  the  wake  of  the  mule,  and  well 
beyond  the  intangible  dead-line  of  the  animal's 
heels,  a  flock  of  waiters  gave  each  other  advice, 
with  gestures. 

The  mule,  having  functioned  as  a  critic  of 
Honey  tone's  concluding  remarks,  turned  sharply 
and  retraced  his  steps.  Before  him  the  courage 
of  the  crowd  melted  in  a  solvent  of  safety-first. 

At  the  passageway  where  he  had  gained  en 
trance  to  the  horseshoe  table  the  mule  came  face 
to  face  with  the  Wildcat.  As  the  mule  passed 
him  the  Wildcat  grabbed  for  the  animal's  head 
and  succeeded  in  draping  himself  around  the 
mule's  neck.  The  front  end  of  the  mule  got 
tame  but  he  took  careful  aim  with  his  right  hind 
leg  and  delivered  one  parting  kick  in  the  di 
rection  of  a  Prussian  waiter  who  had  signed  under 
the  Swiss  flag.  "Mule,  git  ca'm  befo'  you  wrecks 
de  place.  Ca'm  yo'se'f."  Lily  augmented 
the  Wildcat's  admonition  with  a  strenuous  bleat. 


LILY  45 

Deep  in  the  chorus  rumbled  the  Q.  M  Lieu 
tenant's  personal  advice  to  the  mule.  Under  the 
combined  influence  of  the  trio  the  mule  got  calm. 
It  was  at  that  moment  that  the  bar-bearing 
Lieutenant  stepped  from  his  place  at  the  table 
and  made  his  way  to  the  Wildcat's  side. 

The  Lieutenant  had  recognized  the  solution 
of  the  problem  which  had  been  uprooting  the 
normal  calm  which  characterized  the  Presidio. 
"Son,"  he  said  quietly,  "where  did  you  get  this 
mule?' 

The  Wildcat  stepped  into  the  limelight. 
When  white  folks  laughed  and  felt  noble  a  boy 
did  himself  proud  to  stand  where  he  wouldn't 
miss  the  gravy  when  the  ham  was  being  passed 
around. 

"Gin'ral  'suh,  me  an'  mah  mascot  was  medi- 
tatin'  roun'  in  de  shade  up  heah  in  de  woods 
whah  at  de  wild  golfs  roam.  I  wuz  sleepin'  me 
some  while  de  sleepin'  wuz  free  like, — an'  dis 
ol'  mule  an'  Lily  gits  talkin'  politics  an'  disputin' 
so  loud  dey  wakes  me  up.  Lily  claims  one  thing. 
Mkile  claims  Lily  lied.  Mascot  rams  de  mule 
whah  at  he  sets  down.  Mule  shoots  a  hoof  at 
Lily.  Misses  Lily.  I  gits  me  a  fence  palin' 
an'  pacifies  dat  mule  th'ee  or  fo'  times  in  de  haid. 
'Git  ca'm,  Mule!  Bam!'  OP  mule  shoots  an- 


46  LILY 

otheh  hoof.  Aims  at  whah  I  wuz.  Misses 
whah  I  is.  'Mule,'  I  sez,  'Guilty.'  Mule  gits 
de  verdick.  I  gits  a  new  palin'  off  de  fence. 
Big  knot  in  one  end.  Dat's  de  mule's  end — de 
mis'ry  end.  I  glides  up  like  ol'  snake.  Slow- 
like.  'Woe,  Mule,'  I  sez.  I  means  trouble 
woe, — not  de  stoppin'  kind.  Mule  looks  side 
ways,  squinchin'  like  an'  'ceitful.  OF  mule 
squinch  one  eye.  Takin'  aim.  Aim  steady. 
Seed  his  undeh  lip  wiggle.  Bad  sign.  Seed  de 
'U.  S'  on  his  laig.  Knowed  he  was  a  'tillery 
mule  f'm  de  ahmy.  I  yells  'Fiah!'  Mule 
squinch  bofe  eyes  tight,  waitin'  fo'  de  gun  to 
bang.  Gun  didn't  bang.  Nuthin'  bang  'ceptin' 
de  big  knot  in  de  fence  palin'.  'Bam!'  I  give 
dat  varmint  bofe  barr'ls.  .  .  .  Tail  kink  some 
when  he  lays  down.  After  while  he  gits  back 
on  his  laigs.  Opens  his  eyes.  Fust  thing  he  sez 
when  he  seed  me  wuz,  'Yass  suh,  sergeant. 
Whut's  de  ordehs  fo'  de  day4?'  'You's  'rested/ 
I  sez.  'Ten-shun!'  Dat's  all,  gin'ral,  suh. 
'Ceptin'  I  marched  dat  ol'  mule  down  heah  whah 
at  you  was  waitin'  fo'  us.  Dat's  all.  Heah 
us  is,  suh." 

In  the  gin'ral's  accents  was  a  mixture  of  Dis 
tinguished  Service  medal,  crown  of  glory,  palm 
leaves,  and  personal  relief.  "Take  him  outside 


LILY  47 

and  hold  him  out  there.  After  this  banquet  is 
finished  we  will  take  him  back  where  he  belongs." 

"Gin'ral,  yaas  suh!  Mule,  stan'  'roun'. 
Us  aims  to  manage  you  fm  now  on!" 

The  Lieutenant  walked  back  to  his  seat  and 
the  oratory  proceeded  without  further  inter 
ruption  except  for  the  strenuous  glances  of  rec 
ognition  which  flashed  between  the  Wildcat  and 
Honeytone  Boone. 

The  Wildcat  led  the  mule  outdoors.  From 
the  brunet  throng  ranged  about  him  he  summoned 
Gimlet.  He  created  an  open  space  with  a  single 
warning.  "Men,  stan'  back  fm  us  an'  dis  mule. 
Dem  hind  laigs  sez  U.  S. — dat  means  un-safe." 

In  a  lower  tone  he  addressed  Gimlet.  "Guess 
dat  wishbone's  brought  de  luck!  Dat's  Honey- 
tone,  inside.  Last  I  knowed  he  was  Old  Line. 
Now  he's  speechin'  uppity  talk  in  whah  de  Bour 
bon  white  folks  is.  Hangin'  close  to  de  grub. 
Dat's  Honeytone.  When  he  comes  out  I  gives 
you  a  howdy  do.  Den  me  an'  de  ahmy  gin'ral 
leaves  you.  Me  an'  ol'  gin'ral  aims  to  drag  dis 
mule  back  whah  he  comes  fm.  I  guess  you 
'filliates  wid  Honeytone  widout  no  mo'  help 
f  m  me." 

"I'll  say  us  does.  Ol'  wishbone  sho'  done 
noble."  Resolution  grated  in  Gimlet's  words. 


48  LILY 

'Til  say  us  'filliates — else  Honeytone  busts  all 
de  leavin'  reco'ds  eveh  made  by  fast  niggers." 

In  a  little  while  the  Q.  M.  Lieutenant,  fol 
lowed  by  Honeytone  Boone  and  various  other 
banquet  guests,  plowed  his  way  out  to  the  en 
trance  of  the  hotel.  When  the  Lieutenant 
reached  the  sidewalk  the  Wildcat  and  Lily  and 
the  mule  were  waiting  for  him.  "Heah's  yo' 
mule,  gin'ral  suh." 

.The  army  man  smiled.  "Get  into  the  back 
seat  of  my  car.  Lead  the  mule.  We'll  drive 
to  the  Presidio." 

The  Wildcat  hesitated  only  a  moment.  He 
fixed  Honeytone  with  his  eye  and  summoned  him 
with  a  quick  gesture.,  "Honeytone,  leave  me 
interdooce  mah  oV  fren'  Gimlet.  Mebbe  you 
boys  kin  start  some  projec'  togetheh," 

The  Wildcat  boosted  the  mascot  goat  into  the 
Q.  M.  Lieutenant's  car.  Clutching  the  mule's 
wire  halter  he  climbed  to  his  seat  beside  the 
goat. 

On  the  curb  Gimlet  looked  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye  at  Honeytone.  "Honeytone,  howdy! 
I'll  say  us  kin  start  sumpthin'  projectin'  togetheh. 
Whah  at's  mah  fifty  dollahs  I  'filli?tes  wid  de 
chu'ch  whut  you  starts*?" 

Honeytone  began  to  explain. 


LILY  49 

When  the  Q.  M.  Lieutenant's  car  turned  into 
Market  Street  the  Wildcat  looked  back.  Honey- 
tone  was  no  longer  standing  still.  He  was  rac 
ing  up  the  street  one  jump  ahead  of  a  hollow- 
ground  finish.  Following  close  in  his  wake, 
waving  the  wire-edge  equalizer,  leaped  the  gal 
loping  Gimlet. 

The  Lieutenant  spoke  to  the  Wildcat.  "Son, 
you're  a  pretty  lucky  boy.  There's  a  hundred 
dollar  reward  out  for  finding  that  mule." 

"Gin'ral,  yaas  suh !"  The  Wildcat  got  his  last 
glimpse  of  the  speeding  Honey  tone.  "Us  sho' 
is  lucky,  Gin'ral.  Me  an'  Gimlet  an'  dis  Lily 
goat  is  'fested  wid  wishbone  luck." 


CHAPTER   IV 

IN  one  way  and  another  Lady  Luck  was  smil 
ing  on  the  Wildcat.  She  had  just  booned 
him  with  a  mule,  A.  W.  O.  L.  from  the 
Presidio.  On  the  mule's  scalp  was  a  hundred- 
dollar  bounty,  but  the  luck  the  Wildcat  craved 
most  of  all  was  the  kind  which  would  bring  his 
Captain  Jack  back  to  him.  Without  Captain 
Jack  to  tell  it  to,  reward-bearing  mules  meant 
nothing  much  to  Lady  Luck's  favorite. 

Towing  the  truant  mule  from  the  Palace  Ho 
tel  to  the  Presidio,  the  Wildcat  sogged  down  in 
the  back  seat  of  an  army  automobile  and  rested 
himself  proud. 

"Mule  luck  is  all  right, — noble  to  have  dis 
hund'ed  doll  ah  bonus  whut  de  ahmy  boys  is  givin* 
to  pay  me  fo'  ketchin'  dis  mule.  Rations  is  all 
right, — now  an'  den, — an'  a  slug  of  Liza  gin  is 
noble  when  a  boy  feels  downtrod,  but  nuthin' 
ain't  nuthin'  'less  ol'  Cap'n  Jack  is  whah  at  you 


is." 


San  Francisco  night  was  another  fly  in 

50 


LILY  51 

the  copious  helping  of  the  ointment  of  good  for 
tune  with  which  Lady  Luck  had  been  so  gener 
ous.  "Sho'  be  noble  wuz  it  daytime  'stead  of 
in  de  dark,"  he  mumbled  at  Lily  the  mascot  goat 
who  was  seated  beside  him.  "Does  folks  see  us 
riding  in  a  automobile  dey  craves  to  meet  up  wid 
us.  Some  day  wuz  us  bust  some  boy  be  proud 
to  lend  us  money.  Ainybody  lend  money  to 
automobile  ridin'  folks,  but  does  you  walk  you 
stays  bust." 

"What's  that?  What  did  you  say?"  The 
Q.  M.  Lieutenant  in  the  front  seat  of  the  car 
speared  a  question  at  the  Wildcat. 

"Gin'ral  suh,  I  wuz  talkin'  at  dis  otheh  animil. 
Goat,  how  come  you  is  so  dumb?  Answer  me!" 

"Blaa-a !"  Lily  voiced  a  reply  to  her  master's 
demand. 

"Mule  all  right?"  In  the  Lieutenant's  reiter 
ated  inquiry,  which  had  been  repeated  at  three- 
minute  intervals  since  the  outfit  started,  there 
was  something  which  suggested  that  the  greatest 
good  to  the  greatest  number  was  all  wrapped  up 
in  a  four-legged  jug-headed  mule  branded  "U.  S." 
on  his  left  hind  leg,  and  that  the  welfare  of  the 
nation  depended  on  the  safe  delivery  of  the  mule 
to  the  Presidio. 


52  LILY 

"Gin'ral,  yassuh!  OP  mule  ramblin'  like  he 
done  drunk  some  gin  wid  his  supper." 

"Haw-wnk — Eee — Haw!"  The  trailer  un- 
limbered  a  shattering  chord  into  the  fog  of  mid 
night. 

The  Lieutenant  massaged  his  quivering  ear 
drums.  ''That  mule  has  a  grand  voice  for  the 
Signal  Corps  telephones."  He  turned  again  to 
the  Wildcat:  "Animal  sounds  all  right.  The 
stable  sergeant  will  knock  the  bray  out  of  him 
to-morrow.  Mule  has  been  A.  W.  O.  L.  for  three 
weeks.  Made  a  horrible  mix-up  in  memorandum 
receipts  and  inventories." 

"Gin'ral,  yassuh !"  The  Wildcat  was  brief. 
In  the  first  place  a  boy  generally  stayed  on  better 
terms  with  Lady  Luck  if  he  didn't  affiliate  too 
intimately  with  white  folks,  and  in  the  second 
place  the  army  is  the  army,  and  the  Wildcat  had 
won  his  corporal's  chevrons  in  the  drafty  days 
by  sticking  out  his  chest  and  strutting  like  a 
turkey  gobbler  and  letting  officers  do  most  of  the 
talking.  In  the  third  place  he  didn't  know  any 
more  about  memorandum  receipts  and  inventories 
than  a  naval  aviator.  "De  gin'ral's  mule  trou 
bles  is  his  pussonal  misery." 

Thereafter  for  a  little  while  the  Q.  M.  Lieu 
tenant  rode  in  thoughtful  silence,  thankful  for  the 


LILY  53 

pay-streak  of  good  that  had  lightened  the  sombre 
country-rock  of  evil  out  of  which  the  world  and 
its  inmates  had  been  created  in  six  working  days 
of  eight  hours.  Now  that  the  lost  mule  had 
been  roped  into  the  fold  the  Lieutenant's  ac 
counts  were  cleared  and  retirement  with  the  pay 
vouchers  at  75%  of  their  pre- Volstead  strength 
was  feasible. 

The  Lieutenant  wondered  if  the  Officers' 
Guessing  Contest  in  the  wood-fire  room  would  be 
ended  before  his  arrival.  The  hour  was  late  but 
one  never  could  tell  how  the  cards  would  run. 
He  pictured  the  scene  that  would  ensue  when  he 
pulled  the  clicker  on  his  little  verbal  grenade  and 
cast  it  into  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  gentlemen 
whose  merry  singing  voices  had  been  roughened 
by  poker  phrases,  cigarettes,  and  stuff  that  might 
have  aged  ten  years  in  the  woods  where  the  night- 
blooming  bootleggers  made  it  fresh  every  week. 
"Yaas  indeed,  gentlemen.  Here's  your  damn 
mule!  As  far  as  I'm  concerned  Washington's 
official  pain  is  ended."  Retired  List.  Play. 
Travel.  Comfortable  Clothes.  Golf. 

The  Lieutenant's  retrospective  mind  touched 
lightly  upon  a  million  dollar  detail  of  the  past. 
A  million  dollars'  worth  of  A.  E.  F.  property 
which  had  been  lost.  Property  for  which  some 


54  LILY 

sergeant  had  signed  a  memorandum  receipt  at  a 
base  port  in  France.  He  could  forget  those  de 
tails.  That  was  France.  War!  Here,  clatter 
ing  along  at  the  end  of  an  iron  wire,  clutched  by 
the  boy  who  had  found  him,  was  the  nation's 
Lost  Mule. 

The  Lieutenant  wondered  if  he  might  pry  loose 
a  D.  S.  medal  for  the  colored  hero.  He  decided 
that  it  was  hardly  feasible  and  that  the  hundred 
dollar  reward  posted  by  the  stable  sergeant  would 
be  ample  payment. 

"Mule  all  right?' 

"Gin'ral,  yassuh!"  The  Wildcat  glanced 
back  at  the  mule  which  was  being  towed  along 
in  the  improvised  noose  of  fence  wire. 

A  long  review  of  the  day's  events  drifted 
through  the  Wildcat's  mind.  "Neveh  kin  tell. 
Us  begins  wid  grief  dis  mawnin'  but  dat  ol'  Gim 
let  podneh  sho'  drug  in  de  luck.  ,  Meets  up  wid 
dis  money  mule  and  heah  us  is, — Lady  Luck  an' 
Lily,  me  an'  de  mule,  an'  ol'  gin'ral.  Spec'  us 
gits  de  money  to-night  fo'  ketchin'  dis  ol'  mule. 
Den  look  out  raiment!  Yaller  shoes,  cuttin' 
edge  pants, — sort  of  cloudy  dove  in  shade.  Sho' 
gits  a  necktie.  An'  a  collah.  Needs  sumpin'  in 
de  shirt  line  to  hitch  de  collah  on  so  it  kaint  climb 
too  high.  Yaller  necktie  wid  roosteh  green 


LILY  55 

spots.  Mebbe  stripes.  Hard  hat, — cloudy  dove 
favored  like  de  pants.  Noble  socks,  red  like. 
Two  socks.  One  fo'  each  foot.  Bull  blood 
color.  Den  me  an'  Lily  steps  out  some.  Fust 
us  gits  Lily  a  spo't  blanket.  Yaller  favored. 
Bull  blood  stripes  mebbe.  When  us  meets  up 
wid  olj  Cap'n  Jack  us  does  him  proud.  In  de 
meantime,  Lady  Luck,  heah  us  is!" 

"Ah  don't  botheh  work, — work  don't  botheh  me, 
I'se  fo'  times  as  happy  as  a  bumble  bee  .  .  ." 

Until  the  Presidio  gates  loomed  before  them 
the  Wildcat  drifted  into  the  twilight  sleep  coun 
try  where  Lady  Luck's  favorite  son  et  his  grub 
when  he  could  git  it  and  slep'  mos'  all  de  time, 
not  caring  a  doggone,  meanwhile,  what  happened 
to  the  sunshine. 

At  the  Presidio  gates  an  Old  Timer  barked  a 
challenge  at  the  gleaming  lights  of  the  Q.  M. 
Lieutenant's  car.  In  the  sentry's  tone  was  the 
brevity  that  had  come  in  the  rain-drenched  nights 
up  the  line  in  the  A.  E.  F.,  but  tempering  the 
Guard's  formal  voice  was  a  technical  perfection 
which  suggested  a  knowledge  of  who  was  out  and 
when  he'd  be  back.  Gone  was  the  "Wat  tell, 
Buddie,"  absent  the  blue-pass  bunk. 


56  LILY 

"Off'cer  th'  post,  corp'ral,  colored  civilian,  one 
goat,  an*  one  damn  mule,"  the  Lieutenant  an 
swered. 

"Pass,  circus,  an*  git  to  bed."  The  sentry  re 
served  this  speech  to  himself  but  his  rifle  leaped 
into  a  military  gesture  which  spelled  open  gates 
to  the  driver  of  the  car. 

"Betteh  not  monkey  wid  us,  Lily."  The 
Wildcat  in  the  back  seat  got  proud  and  puffed 
out  a  sentence  at  his  mascot  goat.  "Us  folks  sets 
noble  an'  rambles  whah  at  us  craves  to  go  widout 
no  oP  sentry  stoppin'  us.  Sho'  settin'  purty. 
Sho'  doin'  noble.  De  day  come  in  bad.  Tested 
heavy  wid  grief.  Ends  up  wid  money  in  de 
pocket  an'  de  skillet  thick  wid  grease.  Neveh 
kin  tell.  Neveh  kin  see  whut  Lady  Luck's 
gwine  to  do  'cept  wid  hindsight."  His  solilo 
quy  trailed  off  into  a  song  hummed  softly  into 
the  night.  In  the  song  was  some  of  the  phi 
losophy  that  he  had  learned  in  Lady  Luck's 
school. 

Lady  Luck  is  waitin'  whah  you  leas'  especk, 

You  ain't  gwine  to  ketch  her  does  you  bus'  yo'  neck — 

Res'  an'  take  it  easy, — " 

A  falsetto  bleat  from  Lily  seemed  to  voice  the 


LILY  57 

mascot's  complete  approval  of  the  sentiment* 
"Blaa-a!" 

"Cut  out  that  damn  mumblin'."  The  Lieu 
tenant's  tone  suggested  a  volley  at  sunrise, 
"Mule  all  right?" 

"Gin'ral,  yassuh!  Neveh  seed  a  mule  mo' 
agile.  Sho'  beamin'  wid  health.  Sho'  spry. 
Spec'  wuz  one  spry  wuth  a  nickel  dat  mule  is 
rich." 

The  gin'ral  got  the  first  sentence  abreast  of 
the  house  on  Officers'  Row  wherein  burned  the 
wood  fire.  From  the  room  containing  the  round 
table  whereon  clicked  the  ante  and  across  which 
rasped  intermittent  discards  there  gleamed  a 
light.  He  turned  to  the  driver.  "Stop  here. 
We'll  get  out  here.  That's  all  to-night.  Good 
night." 

The  Lieutenant  got  out  of  the  car  and  entered 
the  house.  He  returned  a  minute  later  leading 
a  flying  wedge  of  shirt-sleeved  officers.  Curi 
osity  touched  par  and  then  about  the  Lieuten 
ant's  shoulders  was  thrown  a  wreath  of  night- 
blooming  congratulations.  About  the  mule,  at 
a  respectful  distance,  ranged  the  gallery  of  ad 
mirers.  "That  Wildcat  boy  found  him.  Tell 
me!  Always  played  a  spade  flush  against  the 
rest  of  the  deck." 


58  LILY 

The  Wildcat  stepped  forward.  A  Lieutenant 
fired  a  question  at  him.  "How'd  you  find  him*? 
Where'd  you  locate  the  ramblin'  prodigal*?" 

The  Wildcat  told  his  story  until  out  of  the 
peopled  darkness  Lily  the  mascot  goat  interrupted 
the  tale.  Officers'  ears  bulged  open,  readily  re 
ceptive  for  the  details  of  a  kidnapping  plot. 

"Baby!  Where'd  y'  get  'urn?  Reg'lar  me 
nagerie." 

"Goat.  Belongs  to  this  boy."  The  Q.  M. 
Lieutenant  was  quick  to  dispel  his  fellows'  hopes 
for  an  elaboration  of  the  night's  adventure. 
"Mascot  goat." 

The  Lieutenant  summoned  an  orderly  from 
a  somnolent  post  where  the  night-detail  usually 
meant  eight  hours'  sleep.  "Take  this  man  and 
this  mule  to  headquarters,"  he  directed.  "Tell 
the  sergeant-major  to  get  a  receipt  for  this  mule 
from  the  stable  sergeant  and  to  credit  my  prop 
erty  account.  Tell  him  my  orders  are  to  give 
this  Wildcat  boy  the  hundred  dollars  reward 
posted  for  this  mule's  return.  That's  all. 
Wake  'em  all  up  and  get  this  business  finished 
to-night.  Get  this  four-legged  deserter  hobbled 
and  hog-tied  and  haze  him  into  the  corral." 

The  Lieutenant  turned  to  the  Wildcat:     "Go 


LILY  59 

with  this  man.  The  stable  sergeant  will  turn 
the  reward  over  to  you.  Goodnight." 

The  Wildcat  and  his  guide  walked  away,  fol 
lowed  by  the  mule.  Close  to  the  Wildcat's 
side,  now  and  then  glancing  at  her  ancient  enemy, 
Lily  pattered  along  toward  whatever  future  might 
await  her. 

Down  the  interminable  lengths  of  the  Presidio 
streets,  relieved  now  and  then  by  narrow  open 
spaces,  clustered  long  rows  of  frame  structures 
of  unvarying  architecture.  Presently  the  quar 
tet  came  to  the  barracks  wherein  slept  the  re 
ward-offering  stable  sergeant.  In  a  little  while 
the  mule  returned  to  the  company  of  his  fellows 
and  then,  under  a  dim  electric  light,  the  Wild 
cat  held  out  his  hand  and  received  therein  five 
twenty-dollar  bills  and  a  pen.  "Sign  this  re* 
ceipt." 

The  Wildcat  confessed  his  inability  to  sign  his 
name. 

"To  hell  wid  de  papeh,  sarge.  Dat  ain't  no 
ahmy  money." 

The  matter  of  the  receipt  was  waived. 

The  advice  relative  to  the  receipt  had  been 
offered  by  a  soldier  of  the  Wildcat's  color. 
When  the  Wildcat  pocketed  his  roll  this  soldier 


60  LILY 

looked  at  him  intently  for  a  moment.  "You 
been  in  de  ahmy,  boy?" 

'Til  say  so.  Fust  Service  Battalion.  Got 
me  three  goF  stripes  an'  all  de  grief  whut  went 
wid  'em.  Whah  at  kin  I  git  on  de  right  road 
leadin'  down  town.  Me  an'  oF  gin'ral  sho'  drug 
dat  mule  a  long  ways  since  midnight.  Aims  to 
git  me  a  little  sleep  befo'  mawninV 

"Come  on  wid  me.     I  shows  you." 

The  Wildcat  and  his  brunet  companion  wan 
dered  into  the  night.  Half  way  to  the  entrance 
gates  of  the  Presidio  the  guide  stopped.  "Jes' 
thought  mebbe  you  might  crave  a  slug  o'  gin.  I 
knows  a  place,  back  a  ways,  whah  dey's  a  culled 
boy  wid  a  outfit  whut  retails  f  m  a  bottle  fo'  two 
bits  a  dram." 

"All  de  way!  All  de  way  'till  us  finds  dat 
boy.  How  come  you  ain't  said  so  befo'?" 

"Ponderin'  whether  you  crove  gin  de  most." 

"De  most  dan  whut?" 

"Mo'  dan  de  bone  dance  whah  de  clickers 
stan'  on  one  foot  an'  run  wid  de  otheh  until  de 
seven  shows." 

"Boy, — you  is  speakin'  mah  own  talk.  Fo'- 
git  de  gin.  Whah  at  is  dis  bone  pasture?" 

"I  leads  you." 

Three  minutes  later,  deep  in  an  abandoned 


LILY  61 

powder  magazine  that  stands  on  the  bluff  that 
faces  the  Golden  Gate,  the  Wildcat  plowed  his 
way  through  a  packed  ring  of  spectators  to  the 
central  zone  of  activity  where,  on  an  O.  D. 
blanket,  a  pair  of  dice  were  dancing  their  way 
toward  a  fatal  seven.  "Orphan!  Done  killed 
dey  po'  olj  father.  Nex'  boy!" 

"Leave  dis  Wildcat  own  dem  babies  a  while!" 
"Han'    me    dem    twins!     I'se    dey    pappy. 
Shoots  twenty.     Fade  me  whilst  I  fumble  dese 
leopards!" 

"Bam, — an'  us  stumbles  on  snake  eyes! 
Doggone  dem  dice.  Reg'lar  deception  co'mittee 
greets  de  strangeh.  Shoots  de  relief.  Shoots 
twenty.  Fade  me  whilst  dis  mule  money  is 


tame." 


"Unhitch  'em !     You  is  met." 

"Mule  dice,  in  de  collah!  Bam! —  An'  us 
reads  six  an'  de  sunset  gun !  Hot  dam ! — lets  it 
lay.  Shoots  forty.  Fade  an'  fall  back !" 

A  weather  beaten  sergeant  covered  the  bet. 
"Shake  yo'  furlough.  You  is  bleached!" 

"Lady  Luck,  suss-tain  me!  Wham — an5  nine 
sez  Nero.  Nine — rally  roun' !  Six-fo' !  An' 
six-five !  Dice — re-dooce !  An'  dey  sez  five  an' 
five.  One  north.  Gi,t  south.  Bam — an'  de 
painful  truth  seven  debbils !" 


62  LILY 

"Gimme  dem  dice.  Wilecat,  shoots  you 
twenty.  Fade  me  an'  get  frail." 

"You  is  faded,— roll  'em!"  The  Wildcat 
stripped  off  one  of  his  three  greenbacks.  "Let 
'em  leap!" 

The  gallopers  leaped  straight  at  seven.  "Let 
it  lay — shoots  forty.  Hitch  up  de  mule  money 
an'  ride  'em." 

"I  rides  'em!  Roll  de  verdick."  The  Wild 
cat  laid  down  his  two  remaining  twenties. 
"Rides  em  rough." 

The  sergeant  smothered  the  cubes  in  the  moist 
palm  of  his  uplifted  right  hand,  invoking  the 
while  the  aid  of  the  several  personal  deities  who 
watched  over  his  gambling  activities.  "Cleo  de 
Cleaner!  De  solid  gold  teeth!  Wham — an'  I 
reads  six  an'  a  solitaire.  Wilecat,  you  is 
cleaned." 

The  Wildcat  found  no  point  whereon  he  might 
hang  an  argument.  "I's  cleaned.  De  ahmy 
wins  de  battle.  Ah  retreats  light.  Come  on 
heah,  Lily,  befo'  dese  soldiers  cuts  de  wool  off 
you." 

The  victim  of  the  encounter  beat  the  gun  in  a 
ramble  from  the  Presidio  to  his  down  town 
rendezvous  with  the  spindling-built  companion  of 


LILY  63 

his  trails  and  triumphs.  He  began  his  march 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  it  was  an  hour 
later  when  he  entered  the  territory  wherein  Gim 
let  was  awaiting  him. 


CHAPTER   V 

44  "Ik  yEVEH  kin  tell  about  mules,  'ceptin' 
I^L  I  dey  always  means  trouble  fo'  some- 

±  ^1  body.  Come  on  heah,  Lily, — double- 
time  yoj  feet.  Us  meets  up  wid  Gimlet  and  eats 
heavy.  By  dis  time  dat  boy  has  collected  f'm 
dat  Honeytone  Boone.  Gimlet  neveh  falls 
down." 

Gimlet  in  the  meantime  had  been  out-dis 
tanced  in  a  race  led  by  Honeytone  Boone.  His 
endeavors  to  collect  his  investment  in  Honey- 
tone's  ten-for-one  church  project  had  been  handi 
capped  by  the  calisthenics  involved  in  the  busi 
ness  of  running  himself  ragged  and  at  the  same 
time  steering  a  wire-edged  razor  toward  a  park 
ing  place  in  Honeytone's  active  anatomy.  Gim 
let  meant  well  but  he  was  loaded  down  with  a 
raging  thirst  for  revenge  and  too  much  hardware. 
After  the  first  half  mile  he  gave  up  the  chase, 
and  breathing  deeply,  with  his  tongue  hanging 
out  less  than  a  foot,  he  retraced  his  steps  down 
Mission  Street  until  he  came  to  the  Palace  Ho- 

64 


LILY  65 

tel,  from  which  point  the  race  of  revenge  had 
started. 

It  was  well  toward  morning  and  Gimlet  leaned 
on  a  half-developed  instinct  in  his  search  for  his 
companion.  "De  Wilecat  gits  whah  de  soldiers 
is  and  either  gits  his  money  or  fails — one  way 
o'  otheh  de  chances  is  he  double-tracks  it  to  de 
place  whah  de  nutriment  kin  be  had  fo'  cash." 
He  shaped  his  course  accordingly  toward  the 
Sutter  Street  lunch-counter  where  he  and  the 
Wildcat  had  agreed  to  meet. 

Arrived  at  the  "Hot  and  Ready"  he  inquired 
for  the  Wildcat:  "Dark  complected  Memphis 
boy  wid  a  goat*?" 

"Ain't  seed  him, — ain't  been  in  to-night." 

"I  waits  fo'  him." 

Thereafter  for  an  hour  Gimlet  waited  under 
the  frowning  glances  of  the  proprietor  of  the 
lunch  room,  who  reserved  his  welcome  for  patrons 
equipped  with  cash.  "Dis  ain't  no  res'  cure, — 
dem  is  eatin'  chairs — whuteveh  sleepin'  you  does 
is  extrah.  Like  as  not  dat  Wilecat  is  mindin* 
his  own  bizness." 

Gimlet  paid  no  heed  to  the  pointed  suggestions 
but  maintained  his  place  in  a  chair  tilted  back 
against  the  wide  wall  of  the  lunch  room. 

It  was  here,  at  three  o'clock,  that  the  Wildcat, 


66  LILY, 

trailed  by  the  fatigued  but  faithful  mascot  goat, 
found  him.  "You  outrun  dat  Honeytone*?" 

The  question  was  superfluous, — the  answer 
could  be  read  in  Gimlet's  dejected  counte 
nance. 

"Kaint  outrun  nuthin'.  I'se  built  too  short 
in  de  laigs  fo'  any  fancy  runnin'.  Dat  Honey- 
tone  got  lighter  eve'y  minute." 

"Neveh  you  mind,  Gimlet.  I  collected  dat 
soldiers'  bonus  fo'  ketchin'  dat  mule  fo'  dem  ahmy 
folks." 

"How  much  you  git?" 

"Hund'eh  dollahs.  Mos'  money  us  seed  since 
I  los'  dat  Soopreem  roll." 

"Wilecat,  a  bird  in  de  hand  beats  snake's  eyes. 
You  betteh  res'  content  wid  dat  hund'ed  an'  not 
try  to  build  up  too  sudden." 

"Gimlet,  don't  tell  me  nuthin', — I  knows.  Yo' 
advice  is  late.  De  hund'ed  dwindled  when  us 
got  'suaded  into  de  oP  army  game.  Us  is 
cleaned." 

"Wilecat,  I'se  starved  to  death.  Think  how 
much  ham  an'  eggs  us  could  git  fo'  ha'f  whut 
you  los'  on  dat  las'  pass." 

"Hush,  boy!  Right  now  is  eggs  a  nickel  a 
million  us  couldn't  buy  one  shell.  Nuthin'  in 
mah  pockets  but  lint." 


LILY  67 

'Dey's  a  li'l  hard  lint  in  mah  pockets, — twenty 


cents." 


"Gimlet,  has  yo'  all  got  twenty  cents?  Us 
eats  heavy.  Come  on  back  to  dat  lunch  counter." 

They  turned  toward  the  lunch  counter  and  a 
minute  later  were  perched  on  two  stools  facing 
an  array  of  food  which  looked  to  them  like  the 
front  door  of  Paradise. 

"How  much  dat  fried  liveh  wid  dem  drippin' 
onions  splattered  roun'  it?" 

The  Wildcat  discovered  that  liver  and  onions 
was  two  bits  a  throw. 

"Huh!  How  much  dem  li'l  pieces  sausage 
meat  floatin'  in  gravy?" 

Here  was  an  item  that  came  to  thirty  cents 
for  the  pair. 

"Ain't  you  got  no  small  sausage, — 'bout  ten- 
cent  size  sausage?" 

The  restaurant  business  is  not  a  financial  suc 
cess  as  a  charitable  institution  and  the  husky 
proprietor  was  not  slow  in  explaining  the  fact  to 
the  pair.  "When  you  gits  money  you  eats.  In 
de  meantime  back  away  f'm  de  trough  befo'  you 
scares  de  cash  customers." 

The  Wildcat  essayed  one  last  attempt.  "Whut 
you  got  fo'  twenty  cents  dat's  big  an'  hot  'n 
nllin'?" 


68  LILY 

"Nuthin.     On  yo'  way." 

At  the  last  moment  the  proprietor  relented. 
"How  come  you  don't  try  Chinatown  wid  yo' 
twenty  cents'?  Dem  Chinese  boys  cook  up  mys 
terious  things  whut  is  hot  an'  fillin', — 'long  wid 
tea.  Go  on  down  the  street  'till  you  comes  to 
Grant  Avenue  an'  turn  to  de  lef.  After  a  while 
you  comes  to  de  place  whah  fo'  ten  cents  you 
eats  a  full  meal, — full  of  everythin'." 

"Us  is  gwine,  an'  if  I  neveh  sees  you  again 
dat's  twice  too  soon  fo'  me.  Come  on  heah,  Lily, 
Wuz  cobble  stones  as  hard  as  dis  boy's  heart 
de  street  pavers  would  starve  to  death  like  us  is. 
Come  on,  Gimlet,  whah  dese  Chinee  boys  treats 
you  right  fo'  ten  cents." 

The  night  looked  younger  than  it  was  and  pres 
ently  the  Wildcat  and  Gimlet,  trailed  by  Lily, 
prowled  around  the  corner  of  Grant  Avenue  and 
marched  up  the  incline  into  Chinatown. 

"Wilecat,  is  you  eveh  seed  dese  Chinese  boys 
in  Chinatown  whah  at  dey  lives  so  thick4?" 

"Kaint  say  is  I.  You  means  dem  sawed-off 
yaller  lookin'  boys  whut  is  so  dumb  dey  kaint 
talk  lanwi'ge  no  mo'  dan  a  cacklin'  hen*?" 

"  'At's  dem.  I  shows  you  a  gamblin'  game 
whah  you  pays  ten  cents  fo'  a  lottery  ticket  an' 
mebbe  wins  big.  De  game  runs  neah  de  Chinee 


LILY  69 

josh  house  whah  you  gits  lucky  fo'  a  nickel." 

"Whut  you  mean  lucky  ?" 

"Voodoo  luck — I  shows  you." 

"I'se  afraid  of  dis  Voodoo  luck.  All  us  craves 
is  to  git  dis  mascot  goat  back  to  whah  Lady 
Luck  hears  her  bleat, — whah  at  is  dat  goat*?" 

The  Wildcat  looked  around  him.  Lily  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  Followed  by  Gimlet  he 
retraced  his  steps  until  he  came  to  a  narrow  open 
ing  between  two  buildings,  and  in  this  sanctuary, 
nibbling  heartily  on  a  vermilion  paper  poster  that 
was  pasted  to  a  crumbling  brick  wall,  they  dis 
covered  the  goat.  "Lay  off  dat  paper!" 

"Blaa-a!"  Lily,  with  her  mouth  full  of  an 
announcement  proclaiming  the  marriage  of  Hun 
Yip  and  Loy  Teng,  protested  against  the  inter 
ruption. 

"Come  along  heah,  Goat.  Whut  you  mean 
eatin'  dese  pasted  up  papers?" 

"Spec'  dat  goat  is  twice  as  hungry  as  whut  us 


is." 


"Gimlet,  yo'  talkin'  about  dis  Chinee  lottery 
has  ruined  me  whah  stummick  rations  is  con 
cerned.  I  crave  to  git  heavy  wid  cash  befo'  de 
eatin'  begins." 

"Us  gits  heavy." 

The  march  toward  the  Joss  House,  where  luck 


70  LILY 

could  be  purchased  for  a  nickel,  was  interrupted 
only  by  a  temporary  pause  in  front  of  a  fish 
store  where,  suspended  from  a  hook,  drooped  a 
discouraged  looking  octopus. 

"Whut  dat  slick  snake  lookin'  thing?' 

"Kaint  say.  Dese  Chinee  boys  eats  ainy- 
thing  f  m  snakes  both  ways.  Come  'long  heah 
'till  us  sees  dese  josh  house  boys." 

On  the  way  Gimlet  enlarged  upon  the  pos 
sibilities  of  a  ten-cent  ticket  in  the  Chinese  lot 
tery.  "Boy,  you  gits  action.  I  means  no  waitin' 
a  month  'till  dey  sees  who  loses.  Ten  minutes 
afteh  you  marks  yo'  ticket  de  man  says  'Heah's 
yo'  money,'  or  else,  'Git  out  befo'  I  throws  you 
out!'  Us  gits  two  tickets  an'  de  chances  is  we 
needs  a  wagon  to  haul  away  de  money." 

"I'll  say  so.     I  feels  lucky." 

"Wait  'till  us  finishes  wid  de  josh  house  whah 
dey  makes  luck, — den  you  knows  whut  de  lucky 
hunch  feels  like." 

Gimlet  turned  up  a  stairway  which  led  to  a 
room  congested  with  the  paraphernalia  of  a  Bud 
dhist  philosopher  who  carried  a  side-line  of  cel 
luloid  idols  and  punk-scented  punk  to  be  ex 
changed  for  nickels  and  dimes  of  visiting  luck 
hunters. 

Ushered  by  a  clattering  devil-rattle  and  the 


LILY  71 

bamming  of  a  bronze  bell  the  Wildcat  entered 
the  shrine  room  wherein  functioned  the  priestly 
coin  collector. 

The  smell  of  burning  incense  hit  the  Wildcat 
in  the  nose.  He  sneezed  four  times  in  rapid 
succession.  He  fished  in  his  pocket  and  hauled 
out  a  broken  cigar.  "I  lights  dis"  he  said  to 
Gimlet.  "When  it  gits  to  burnin'  I  figures  it 
an'  Lily  kin  beat  all  de  Chinee  smells  dey  is." 

He  lighted  the  cigar  and  went  about  the  busi 
ness  of  drawing  a  sheaf  of  lucky  sticks  from  the 
bamboo  receptacle  which  held  them.  For  five 
cents  he  bought  a  small  celluloid  god  which  the 
priestly  attendant  assured  him  would  bring  a  mil 
lion  dollars'  worth  of  good  luck. 

With  the  lighted  cigar  in  his  hand  he  paused 
near  a  great  pyramid  of  celluloid  idols  which 
had  been  manufactured  in  Japan  for  the  tourist 
trade  of  Chinatown. 

From  behind  him  the  sullen  boom  of  a  gong 
suddenly  echoed  in  the  crash  of  an  exploding 
string  of  firecrackers  banging  within  the  resonant 
confines  of  a  Buddhist  coal-oil  can. 

The  Wildcat  turned  rapidly  to  discover  the 
source  of  the  riot  and  to  present  if  need  be  an 
armed  front  against  whatever  machine  gun 
troops  might  be  approaching.  "Gimlet,  dis  heah 


72  LILY 

josh  luck  sho'  skeered  me.  How  come  so  much 
ruckus?' 

Then  the  glowing  end  of  the  Wildcat's  cigar 
touched  the  celluloid  corpus  of  one  of  the  luck- 
bringing  idols  piled  on  the  table. 

Gimlet's  reply  was  drowned  in  a  splash  of 
flame. 

A  slight  smell  of  burning  goat  hair  mingled 
with  the  heavy  religious  vapors  of  the  room. 
Lily  made  one  wild  leap  away  from  the  burning 
gods  and  landed  like  a  freight  train,  south  of  the 
embroidered  lizard  which  added  lustre  and  charm 
to  the  equator  of  the  corpulent  Chinese  priest. 
For  an  instant  pidgin  English  went  to  par  and 
then  it  cracked  under  the  strain.  The  priest  in 
dulged  in  forty  high  pitched  Chinese  verbs. 
Gimlet  and  the  Wildcat  meanwhile  busted  all 
circular  track  records  in  their  search  for  the  door. 

Seeing  nothing  worthy  of  her  skill  Lily  took 
a  ra'r  at  the  heavy  bronze  bell.  For  the  subse 
quent  ten  seconds  she  lay  near  the  bell.  On  her 
face  was  a  dejected  look  wherein  mingled  shame, 
chagrin  and  shattered  hopes. 

The  celluloid  gods  had  functioned  rapidly  but 
the  Wildcat's  brain  had  reacted  almost  before 
the  flash  of  the  explosion  had  faded. 

"Must  of  been  a  million  luck-bringin'  doll 


LILY  73 

babies  in  dat  pile.  A  million  at  a  nickel  apiece ! 
Us  leaves  befo'  de  josh  boy  tries  to  collec'  de 
money.  Lawd  gawd,  whah  at  is  Lady  Luck  an' 
olj  Cap'n  Jack!" 

Aloud  he  called  to  Lily  and  Gimlet.  "Come 
on  heah  while  de  comin'  is  good.  Heah's  de 
do'." 

With  Gimlet  and  Lily  clattering  in  his  wake 
he  leaped  down  the  stairway  to  the  street.  On 
the  sidewalk  he  took  a  long  look  at  Gimlet. 
"Boy,  I'll  say  us  is  lucky.  Us  is  lucky  dat  de 
Chinee  boy  was  on  de  hot  side  o'  dat  blazin' 
josh  gawd.  When  he  cools  off  he  sho'  strives 
to  collec'  fo'  dem  luck  things  whut  de  hell  fire 
burns  so  quick." 

Gimlet,  weak  in  the  technique  of  camouflage, 
wasted  no  time  in  idle  speech.  "Come  on  heah, 
Wilecat,  bring  dat  goat.  Us  retreats  back  befo' 
dat  josh  boy  comes  down  de  steps." 

"  'Spose  he  does  come  down  de  steps, — den 
he  starts  a  race  wid  us  to  see  kin  he  kill  us 
runnin'.  Naw  suh !  See  dat  singin'  ahmy  oveh 
dere  'cross  de  street  whah  de  salvation's  free? 
Dem  religious  boys  needs  us.  Come  on  heah. 
Come  heah,  Lily." 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE  Wildcat,  in  flight  from  the  wrecked 
temple,  led  his  charges  across  Grant 
Avenue  from  the  Chinese  Joss  House  to 
where  a  small  band  of  saved  souls  were  making 
the  welkin  ring.  The  salvage  in  lost  souls  at 
the  moment  included  three  fur-bearing  Hindoos, 
two  Kanakas  and  two  Chinamen.  The  Wildcat 
and  his  companion  stepped  to  a  place  close  be 
side  the  booming  bass  drum,  and  Lily  came  to 
attention  at  his  feet.  "Stan'  heah  on  my  lef, 
Gimlet,"  the  Wildcat  directed.  "Did  you  eveh 
sing  in  yo'  life, — sing  now.  Lily,  at  res' !  See 
kin  you  sing." 

The  Wildcat  threw  his  head  back  and  presently 
the  windows  along  Grant  Avenue  reverberated 
to  the  strenuous  and  enthusiastic  message  which 
his  lungs  bawled  forth.  Salvation  was  free  and 
he  took  a  lot  of  it. 

When  the  priestly  proprietor  of  the  Joss  House 
clattered  into  the  street  looking  for  the  pair  who 

had  set  fire  to  his  meal  ticket  the  Wildcat  was 

74 


LILY  75 

proclaiming  to  the  quivering  heavens  that  he  had 
been  a  sinner  but  that  the  chariot  of  salvation 
had  run  him  down.  "Once  I  was  blind  an' 
steeped  in  sin — sing,  Lily,  doggone  you! — but 
I  got  saved  when  dey  took  me  in."  He  kicked 
gently  at  Lily.  Lily  resented  the  kick.  She 
lowered  her  head  and  butted  the  bass  drum. 
Thereafter,  noting  the  mechanics  of  the  arrange 
ment,  the  Wildcat  accented  the  heavy  notes  by 
an  alibi  drum-bamming.  On  lung-busting  ac 
cented  notes  he  kicked  the  goat  and  the  mascot 
butted  the  drum  for  a  low  G. 

Into  this  din  trotted  the  keeper  of  the  Joss 
House.  The  Chinaman  inspected  several  mem 
bers  of  the  singing  band  and  was  about  to  turn 
away  when  his  eye  fell  upon  the  contours  of 
Gimlet's  anatomy.  Firecracker  language  rattled 
in  an  undertone  beneath  the  heavy  singing.  The 
Joss  House  priest  laid  hold  of  Gimlet's  arm. 
Gimlet  kicked  out  at  him  violently.  It  was  at 
this  critical  moment  that  the  hand  of  the  white 
man's  law  came  to  Gimlet's  aid  and  a  moment 
later  the  Joss  House  priest  was  being  escorted  back 
to  his  den  in  the  clutches  of  two  plainclothes 
men.  "Whut  in  hell  do  you  mean,  breakin'  up 
this  sidewalk  church !  Wan  more  move  and  I'll 
sap  you  in  the  bean.  Get  t'hell  upstairs  there 


76  LILY 

where  yez  belong  wid  thim  Chinee  josh  gods 
av  yours." 

The  singing  ceased  and  the  Wildcat  leaned 
toward  Gimlet.  "Boy,  whut'd  I  tell  you, — sal 
vation  sho'  is  free.  Come  on  heah,  Lily,  lay 
off  dat  drum.  Whuff!  Come  close  to  gittin' 
us  dat  time." 

"Close  to  gittin'  me,"  Gimlet  answered. 
"Josh  boy  sho'  had  dis  angel  by  de  wing  when 
de  police  got  him.  Come  on  heah  now, — us 
goes." 

The  pair  walked  down  the  street  a  little  ways 
and  Gimlet  stopped  before  a  rickety  street  door. 
"Wilecat,  heah's  whah  at  dey  plays  de  lottery. 
Us  has  got  de  luck.  Now  does  dat  josh  boy 
crave  to  ketch  us  again  chances  is  he  looks  a  mile 
f'm  heah  'stead  of  close  by." 

The  Wildcat  followed  Gimlet  through  a  series 
of  doors  into  a  room  wherein  a  packed  mass  of 
human  beings  hoped  that  a  ten-cent  investment 
would  win  a  thousand  dollars. 

For  himself  and  for  the  Wildcat  Gimlet 
marked  a  pair  of  ten-cent  lottery  tickets.  After 
that,  for  thirty  minutes,  the  investors  waited  for 
whatever  prize  Lady  Luck  might  dig  out  of  her 
store  of  unearned  rewards.  Lily,  meanwhile, 
with  a  forest  of  human  legs  springing  up  about 


LILY  77 

her,  voiced  her  displeasure  in  an  occasional  bleat. 

"Lis'en  at  dat  goat  pray,  Gimlet.  Lily  knows 
us  is  iinanc'lly  bust.  She's  pullin'  fo'  us  de  best 
she  kin  wid  dat  thin  voice.  Neveh  kin  tell.  I 
seen  a  skinny  girl  outpray  de  preacheh  at  revival 
meetin'  one  time.  Mebbe  Lily's  voice  makes  mo3 
listenin'  dan  all  de  josh  house  bells  an'  Chinee 
singin'  whut  is.  I  feels  festooned  wid  luck. 
Go  'head  an'  pray  loud,  Lily.  Pray  dat  us 
ketches  up  wid  ol'  Cap'n  Jack  befo'  de  debbil  gits 
us.  Us  craves  mah  white  folks." 

"Blaa-a!"  prayed  Lily,  and  in  answer  to  her 
prayer  came  action  in  the  sound  of  axes  cracking 
through  the  outer  doors  of  the  gambling  establish 
ment. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  Wildcat,  Lily  and  Gim 
let,  the  luck  harvester,  enjoyed  a  cool  march 
downhill  to  the  police  station. 

At  ease  in  the  bull-pen  of  the  jail  the  Wildcat 
summarized  his  opinion  concerning  Chinese  lot 
teries  and  the  hand  that  fate  had  dealt  him. 

"Gimlet,  I  'spects  you's  a  hoodoo.  Mebbe 
not, — but  dis  has  sho'  been  a  rough  night. 
Mebbe  dem  Chinee  doll  babies  whut  wuz  cre- 
matized  brings  dis.  Now  when  us  gits  out  you 
gits  one  mo'  chance  wid  de  luck  befo'  me  an'  Lily 
kills  you." 


78  LILY 

"How  come  you  thinks  I  brings  de  bad  luck*? 
I  figgers  dis  heah  mascot  goat  whut  you  thinks  is 
so  lucky  brung  dis  woe.  Befo'  I  meets  up  wid 
you  an'  Lily  I  wuz  free.  Now  heah  us  is. 
Don't  aim  no  remarks  at  me,  boy.  Don't  aim 
nuthin'  at  me." 

Lily,  listening,  evidently  heard  the  complaint 
and  aimed  a  pair  of  high-speed  horns  at  Gimlet 
where  they  would  impress  him  most  acutely. 
After  the  third  round  Gimlet  acknowledged  his 
mistake.  "Goat,  lay  off  me.  I  brung  de  bad 
luck, — I  admits  it.  Me  an'  you  an7  Wilecat 
is  ol'  Jren's." 

Lily  accepted  Gimlet's  apology  with  all  the 
goat  dignity  which  she  could  assume  and  then 
until  dawn  the  trio  slept  peacefully. 

In  his  sleep  the  Wildcat  dreamed  of  a  gal 
loping  mule  festooned  with  hundred-dollar  bills 
and  of  kicking  dice  on  whose  upturned  faces 
bloomed  a  harvest  of  sevens  and  elevens. 

At  six  o'clock  he  was  awakened  by  the  clang 
of  the  morning  gong  and  five  minutes  later  he  was 
tasting  the  first  food  which  he  had  eaten  for 
what  seemed  more  than  a  hundred  years.  "Hot 
dam,  Gimlet, — dese  jail  rations  sho'  is  grand 
grub.  Eat  heavy.  Dis  goat  got  nutrified  las' 


LILY  79 

night, — ain't  no  leavin's  fo'  Lily.  Lady  Luck 
sho'  is  smilin'." 

Three  hours  after  the  Wildcat  had  enjoyed  his 
jail  breakfast  a  police  judge  opened  the  news 
papers  in  his  apartment  in  a  downtown  hotel 
and  was  greeted  by  a  four-column  head  retailing 
the  outstanding  features  of  the  night's  raid, 
wherein,  through  the  courtesy  of  the  reporter  on 
the  police  run,  the  truant  Wildcat,  Gimlet  and 
the  mascot  goat  were  heavily  featured. 

A  recent  epidemic  of  lightweight  gambling 
offenses  which  had  persisted  in  spite  of  the 
Judge's  efforts  to  eliminate  them,  had  not  served 
to  sweeten  that  official's  attitude  toward  similar 
offenses.  "If  I  draw  that  pair  of  crapshooting 
lottery  fans  and  the  Lord  spares  my  voice,  I'll 
boost  them  into  the  straight  and  narrow  path. 
This  stuff  has  got  to  stop." 

On  the  Judge's  calendar  of  activity  when  he 
arrived  at  court  the  first  two  names  in  the  list 
were  those  of  the  Wildcat  and  Gimlet.  Five 
minutes  later  the  Wildcat  and  his  companion 
were  hauled  before  the  bar  of  justice. 

The  Judge  looked  down  at  his  victim.  "Were 
you  playing  this  Chinese  lottery*?" 

"Gin'ral,  no  suh!     Me  an'  Gimlet  was  at- 


8o  LILY 

tenden'  dat  sidewalk  chu'ch  'till  it  broke  up. 
Den  somebody  says  dey  was  a  good  salvation 
meetin'  in  de  basement  next'  do,  an'  us  went. 
Sho'  craves  religion.  I  got  saved  de  fust  time 
in  de  Memphis  revival  de  winter  of  de  Arkansas 
flood.  Neveh  backslid  none  'ceptin  now  an'  den 
when  de  oP  demon  rum  rassles  me  down  an'  now 
an'  den  when  de  sevens  and  elevens  is  gallopin' 
free  in  de  bone  pasture." 

"Crap  shooting,  is  that  it?  Is  this  Gimlet 
partner  of  yours  a  crap  shooter  too4?"  The 
Judge's  eyes  narrowed  as  he  gazed  down  at  the 
Wildcat. 

"Gin'ral,  no  suh!  Dis  Gimlet  ain't  no  crap 
shooter.  Wid  me  it's  difPrunt.  Mah  uncle 
learned  me  neveh  to  dooce,  tray  or  twelve.  I 
shoots  some.  Spec'  mebbe  I'se  de  bes'  crap 
shooter  in  de  world,  'cept  dat  is  wid  de  otheh 
boy's  bones." 

In  the  corner  of  the  Judge's  eyes  appeared 
a  flock  of  faint  wrinkles.  He  leaned  over  and 
whispered  quietly  to  a  police  sergeant  standing 
near  him. 

The  sergeant  whispered  his  reply.  "I  ain't 
got  any,  your  honor,  but  I  can  get  some  in  a 
minute  from  the  bull-pen." 

"Get  'urn!" 


LILY  81 

The  police  officer  left  the  court  room,  walk 
ing  hurriedly,  and  for  a  space  of  three  minutes 
the  wheels  of  justice  slowed  down  to  where  their 
noise  was  drowned  out  by  a  buzzing  fly  who  was 
doing  his  best  to  bore  through  a  pane  of  plate- 
glass. 

The  officer  returned  and  walked  quickly  to 
where  the  Judge  awaited  him.  In  his  hand  he 
held  something  for  the  Judge.  The  Judge  re 
ceived  his  property  and  extended  his  hand  to 
the  Wildcat.  In  his  open  palm  were  two  ivory 
dice. 

"Best  crap  shooter  in  the  world,  are  you? 
Well,  I  stake  you  to  ninety  days  with  the  thirty 
day  bonus  for  this  Gimlet  partner  of  yours. 
You  get  one  flop, — nothing  or  six  months,  and  if 
you  go  free  you  can  take  Gimlet  and  the  goat 
with  you." 

"Gin'ral  suh,  you  means  I  kaint  start  low  an' 
build  up?" 

"I  said  one  flop, — seven,  eleven  or  make  your 
point,  against  six  months." 

The  Wildcat  warmed  the  dice  between  his 
palms.  Through  his  brain  raced  a  series  of  pic 
tures  of  all  that  could  happen  in  six  months. 
He  set  this  gallery  of  art  over  against  the  drab 
succession  of  dragging  days  that  would  be  his 


82  LILY 

if  he  drew  his  jail  sentence.  He  looked  over 
at  Gimlet.  That  individual's  lips  were  moving 
in  a  rapid  silent  prayer.  He  looked  down  at 
Lily  and  in  his  mascot's  eyes  he  seemed  to  sec 
an  unuttered  plea  for  life,  liberty  and  the  pur 
suit  of  happiness. 

"Lawd  gawd,  Lady  Luck,"  he  prayed,  "stan' 
by  me!  An'  one  damn  bone  is  round  on  de 
edge!  Kaint  be  done.  Gotta  be  done." 

He  looked  up  at  the  Judge.  "Gin'ral  suh,  no 
use  trying  to  throw  a  point, — one  of  dese  bones 
is  roun'  shouldered.  I  aims  fo'  eleven.  Does 
I  throw  it  kin  us  go  free?" 

' 'Eleven  opens  the  door.  Roll  'urn  against 
the  wall." 

The  Wildcat  groaned.  "Kaint  be  done."  He 
was  half  determined  to  save  three  months  of 
freedom  by  accepting  the  three-months  sentence 
when  he  looked  down  again  at  Lily.  On  the 
instant  that  he  did  so  the  buzzing  fly,  which  had 
left  the  plate-glass  field  of  operation,  landed  a 
little  above  Lily's  right  eyelid.  The  goat  winked 
instinctively  and  shook  her  head  violently  up  and 
down  in  an  effort  to  rid  herself  of  the  insect. 

The  goat's  winking  suggestion  was  the  Wild 
cat's  cue.  "Lady  Luck,  I  knows  de  signals. 
Goat,  I  believes  you  when  you  nod."  To  him- 


LILY  83 

self  the  Wildcat  pledged  again  his  old  promise 
of  all  or  nothing.  Aloud  he  voiced  his  plea  to 
the  heaven's  goddess.  "Lady  Luck,  stan'  by 


me." 


He  lifted  his  right  hand  high  above  his  head 
and  in  his  moist  palm  nestled  the  freighted  dice. 
"Stan'  by  me.  I'se  a  prowlin'  Wilecat  an'  I'se 
got  to  prowl.  Leave  freedom  ring!  Bam! 
Gallopers,  parade  rest  on  a  jail  bustin'  'leven! 
Bam!" 

The  dice  left  his  hand. 

The  Wildcat  shut  his  eyes  against  a  too  sudden 
revelation  of  his  fate.  Before  he  had  opened 
them  a  loud  rattle  of  subdued  laughter  and  ap 
plause  from  the  ring  of  spectators  suggested  the 
welcome  message  to  be  read  on  the  upturned  face 
of  the  dice. 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  his  vision  centered  on 
a  six-five. 

"Hot  dam!" 

He  turned  his  beaming  face  to  the  Judge. 
"Gin'ral  suh,  dey  fetched  de  key." 

The  Judge,  true  to  his  word,  spoke  the  sentence 
that  meant  freedom  to  the  trio.  "Prisoners  dis 
charged.  Next  case." 

"You  mean  us  is  free?" 

"You're  free.     Get  out  of  here.     Get  out  and 


84  LILY 

stay.  If  I  catch  you  again  all  you  roll  is  a  ball 
and  chain." 

"Yass  suh!  Come  on  heah,  Gimlet.  Come 
on  heah,  Lily.  Us  is  leavin'  and  does  us  neveh 
git  back  dat's  twice  too  soon  fo'  me." 

Thirty  seconds  later,  with  Gimlet  and  the  mas 
cot  goat  at  his  heels,  the  Wildcat  walked  through 
the  one-way  door  of  the  gray  building  and 
breathed  the  air  of  freedom  on  Kearny  Street. 
He  paused  only  long  enough  to  bid  a  brief  fare 
well  to  his  companion. 

"Gimlet,  I  bids  you  goodbye.  Dis  is  good 
leavin'  weather.  Me  an'  Lily  is  headed  fo'  whah 
de  steamboats  is  and  de  fust  one  leavin'  fo' 
N'O'leans  takes  wid  it  one  home-cravin'  Wilecat 
an'  one  mascot  goat." 


CHAPTER   VII 

Some  is  lucky,  some  is  rich, 
Hard  time  tellin'  who  is  which. 

ON  the  Embarcadero,  three  piers  east  of 
the  lure  of  the  Happy  Home  hall,  a 
little  while  after  OP  Man  Trouble  had 
branded  the  Wilecat  with  the  red-hot  double- 
cross,  Lady  Luck  poulticed  the  wound  with 
liberty  and  the  welcome  offer  of  a  waiter's  job 
on  the  New  Orleans  bound  Roller. 

Memphis  and  his  own  white  folks  were  sud 
denly.,  a  million  miles  closer  to  him  when  the 
job  was  cinched.  In  the  shadows  of  the  long 
pier  he  fired  a  volley  of  commands  at  his  mascot 
goat:  "Varmint,  double-time  yo'  laigs.  Us  is 
Memphis  bound!" 

Lily  responded  with  action  and  for  a  moment 
the  Wildcat  surrendered  to  a  reflective  mood 
which  had  developed  with  the  luck  of  the  hour. 
"Lady  Luck  showered  down  this  N'O'leans  boat 
job.  Us  is  sho'  in  de  luck  rain.  Dis  country 
is  all  right  for  dem  whut  craves  it  but  us  is  mis- 

85 


86  LILY 

put  'less  us  stays  wid  oP  Cap'n  Jack.  No  use 
tryin'  to  do  nuthin'  'less  dat  boy  is  wid  you  to 
pick  up  de  leavins'  afteh  OP  Man  Trouble  gits 
done  wid  you.  Come  along  heah  to  whah  de 
man  said." 

The  Wildcat  and  his  mascot  marched  along 
steel  decks  and  climbed  down  slippery  companion- 
ways  until  they  reached  the  entrance  to  the 
Roller's  galley.  The  Wildcat  explained  his 
mission  to  a  lounging  sailor  who  was  doing  the 
best  he  could  to  aid  and  abet  his  health  with  a 
wedge  of  pie.  The  sailor  called  into  the  galley 
to  the  ship's  cook.  "Bam!  Heah's  a  new  boy 
fo'  you.  He  says  he's  signed  on  as  a  waiter 
for  de  officers'  mess." 

Bam,  the  cook,  carrying  a  nickname  three 
syllables  shorter  than  the  name  of  his  native 
state,  grunted  an  acknowledgment  of  the  sailor's 
announcement.  The  grunt  was  backed  by  two 
hundred  pounds  of  fat. 

The  Wildcat  sized  up  his  new  boss.  He  saw 
a  wide  perspiring  face  three  shades  blacker  than 
a  midnight  coal-mine.  "Whut  dat  name  de 
white  folks  calls  you?" 

'  'Bam.  Short  fo'  Alabam'.  I  keeps  de  nick 
name  in  each  hand.  Come  'long  wid  me." 

"Trib'lation,  let  me  miss  you."     The  Wildcat 


LILY  87 

felt  no  craving  to  argue  with  the  chef  about  the 
Bam  business.  "Uppity  nigger/'  he  reflected. 
"Does  he  git  screechin'  reckless  wid  dat  Bam 
trouble  I  sees  kin  I  be  de  echo  wid  de  whet  edge 
of  a  whinin'  blade.  Bam!  Big  nigger.  Does 
de  ruckus  come  I  unfolds  de  equalizer  an*  cuts 
him  down  boy  size.  Den  I  feeds  his  carcass  to 
Lily.  Huh!  Leave  him  Bam  some  does  he 
crave  to.  One  Bam  f'm  dat  fat  nigger  an' 
I  swings  agile  wid  de  trimmin'  hook  an'  den 
stan's1  back  whilst  de  arms  an'  legs  shower 
down." 

He  spoke  a  command  to  his  mascot  goat. 
Come  on  heah,  Lily.  Stan'  by  me." 

The  chef  glanced  at  the  goat.  "Whut  dat 
goat  doin"?" 

"Dat's  my  pussonal  mascot.  Lily  was  wid 
me  in  de  A.  E.  F.  whah  us  killed  so  many  bad 
folks.  Us  pranced  'cross  de  country  f m  New 
York  to  San  F'mcisco  an'  now  us  is  headed 
home." 

"Whut  you  mean  home?" 

"Ten-o-see.  Memphis.  Us  is  headed  back 
whah  Cap'n  Jack  is.  He's  mah  white  folks." 

"Huh!"  The  chef  grunted.  He  stepped 
through  a  door  opening  from  the  galley  and  with 
a  short  gesture  indicated  the  objective  of  the 


LILY 

Wildcat's  attack.  "See  dese  potatoes.  Peel  me 
forty  miles  an'  peel  'em  thick." 

The  Wildcat  faced  his  new  world, — a  small 
compact  world  entirely  surrounded  by  Irish 
potatoes. 

Five  minutes  later,  when  the  full  significance 
of  her  master's  new  position  in  life  showered  upon 
her  in  the  form  of  an  intermittent  cascade  of 
potato  peelings,  Lily  began  to  realize  that  she 
had  entered  into  a  goat  heaven.  In  thirty 
minutes  she  had  profited  by  the  technique  of 
thick  peelings  to  a  point  where  a  thin  belt  which 
festooned  her  midship  section  tightened  to  the 
tension  of  actual  discomfort.  In  spite  of  this 
impediment  she  did  the  best  she  could  to  keep 
even  with  the  game. 

Near  the  bursting  point  she  voiced  a  gentle 
criticism  of  the  belly-band.  "Blaa-a!" 

The  Wildcat  answered  with  action.  A  quick 
swing  of  his  paring  knife  deprived  Lily  of 
the  yellow  insignia.  "Goat,  at  ease.  At  res'! 
You  is  done  wearin'  harness.  Eat  dese  peelin's. 
Mo'  you  eats  de  less  peelin's  dey  is  to  clean  up. 
Git  nutrified  whilst  de  gittin'  is  free." 

He  speared  another  long  potato  and  began  to 
unwind  the  peeling  over  the  lazy  blade  of  his 


LILY  89 

paring  knife.  As  he  worked  he  drawled  softly 
to  his  mascot  and  presently  his  speech  had  mel 
lowed  into  a  moaning  chant,  senseless  except  for 
a  persistent  lazy  rhythm  of  tone: 

"Eat — heavy,  heavy  when  you  gits  a  chance 
Eat  dis  twinin'  peel — 

Re — member  all  dem  hungry  days  in  France 
Eat  dis  twinin'  peel." 

The  mascot  goat  began  to  bulge  with  pros 
perity  and  in  a  little  while  she  was  three  bleats 
and  two  peelings  behind  the  song  and  the  source 
of  food. 

"Speed  up,  Lily!  Whut  you  mean  by  quit- 
tin'?" 

Lily  looked  at  a  two-foot  cone  of  potatoes  on 
the  floor  and  at  the  full  sacks  piled  high  against 
the  bulkhead  walls.  Over  her  eyes  fell  the 
shadow  film  of  defeat.  In  goat  mathematics  she 
mentally  arranged  an  equation  wherein  her  per 
sonal  capacity  opposed  an  impossible  volume  of 
Irish  potatoes.  She  sought  an  exponent  for  the 
low  side  and,  finding  it,  she  announced  her  sur 
render  in  a  series  of  sobbing  bleats,  punctuated 
with  the  gentle  involuntary  grunting  that  comes 
from  gorging  unwisely  and  too  well. 


90  LILY 

"How  come?  Whut  you  mean  gittin'  de 
stomach  mis'ry  an'  quittin'  yo'  job'?" 

"Blaa-a!     Ba!     Ump!     Burr!     Blaa-a-a-a!" 

"Stan'  up.  Ten-shun,  goat !  'Sorb  yo'  rations 
befo'  I  knocks  you  A.  W.  O.  Loose  f 'm  yo'  neck." 

Lily  failed  to  respond.  The  Wildcat  essayed 
a  further  series  of  orders  and  threats  and  invita 
tions.  His  words  were  interrupted  by  the  open 
ing  of  the  door  leading  into  the  ship's  galley. 
The  doorway  framed  the  figure  of  the  ship's  cook. 
The  cook  looked  at  the  little  pile  of  peeled  poto- 
toes  and  then  his  investigating  eyes  roved  in 
search  of  the  peelings  which  should  have 
marked  the  Wildcat's  industry.  "Whah  at  is 
de  peelin's?" 

"Cleaned  up,  Bam.  Dis  lazy  mascot  goat  et 
'em  so  as  to  save  time  an'  trubble.  Showin'  de 
lazy  blood  now, — cravin'  dwindled  on  de  second 
sack." 

The  cook  snorted.  "What  you  mean  cleaned 
up?  I  tole  you  peel  'em  thick.  Dem  potatoes7 
insides  don't  mean  nothin', — it's  de  peelin's  I'm 
afteh.  Head  into  dat  work  an'  dis  time  does 
you  crave  luck,  save  de  peelin's !" 

In  the  cook's  bellowing  tones  the  Wildcat  de 
tected  the  accents  of  rising  anger.  He  resumed 
his  labor.  With  Lily  gorged  to  the  ears  the  mat- 


LILY,  91 

tcr  of  saving  the  peelings  came  easier  and  in  an 
hour  there  had  accumulated  a  great  pile  of  potato 
debris  to  one  side  of  which  lay  a  few  thin  white 
fragments  of  what  had  been  two  sackfuls. 

The  monotony  of  the  game  had  its  effect  and 
presently,  searching  for  some  diversion  which 
might  keep  him  awake,  the  Wildcat's  hands 
stripped  a  large  round  potato  of  its  coat.  Under 
the  knife  the  potato  began  to  assume  the  di 
mensions  of  a  cube.  With  the  first  cube  com 
pleted  the  Wildcat  gave  his  attention  to  the  manu 
facture  of  another.  On  the  six  planes  bounding 
each  cube  he  inscribed  the  insignia  which  lends 
authority  to  a  pair  of  dice  and  into  the  light  pits 
he  inlaid  enough  black  dust  to  render  the  message 
of  the  Irish  gallopers  legible.  He  essayed  a  pre 
liminary  swing  on  the  steel  deck.  "Seven! 
Stan'  back,  Lily.  Let  de  luck  eggs  hatch !" 

Lily,  grunting  gently,  was  shoved  out  of  the 
center  of  the  clear  space  by  the  Wildcat's  foot. 

"Hash  brown,  show  de  seven  specks!  .  .  . 
Wham!  Fo'-tray.  French  fry,  over  de  plate! 
An'  I  reads  six-five.  Mebbe  yo'  eyes  is  out  but 
you  still  kin  see  de  luck  trail !" 

The  preliminaries  were  interrupted  by  the  re 
turn  of  the  cook.  The  Wildcat  looked  at  his 
superior  and  a  smile,  half  of  guilt  and  half  of 


92  LILY 

invitation,  played  around  the  drooping  corners 
of  his  mouth.  "Bam,  look  at  de  present  de  good 
Lawd  done  sent  inside  a  potato.  Like  de  pearl 
in  de  clam — all  dey  knows  is  whut  Lady  Luck 
learned  'em.  Seven  an'  'leven.  You  is  de  boss 
cook.  See  kin  you  boss  dese  hash  eggs." 

Yielding  to  a  temptation  too  strong  for  him 
to  resist  the  cook  reached  out  his  hand  for  the 
gallopers.  "Shoots  fo'  bits.  Dey  calls  me  Bam 
an'  Bam  I  is!" 

"You  is  faded.     Serve  yo'  spuds." 

"Pot  roast,  git  yo'  meat.  Wham !  An'  I  reads 
six-five.  Shakin'  jelly.  I  lets  it  lay.  Shoots  a 
dollar.  You  calls  yo'se'f  Wilecat — see  kin  you 
yowl  some." 

The  Wildcat  responded  nobly.  "Roll  'em,— 
dey  does  de  yowl  in'  when  de  time  comes." 

The  cook  fondled  the  cubes  for  two  seconds 
and  then  cast  them  lightly  across  the  deck  toward 
where  Lily  lay  enjoying  her  digestive  distress. 
"Lucky  spud, — whuff !  .  .  .  An'  I  reads  six-ace ! 
.  .  .  Leggo,  goat!" 

The  ace,  rolling  within  an  inch  of  Lily's  nose, 
was  absorbed  with  the  lightning  technique  of  a 
fly-crawling  lizard.  The  Wildcat  laughed. 
"Show  me  de  ace.  All  I  sees  is  a  peg-leg  six." 

"Ace  was  comin'.     Goat  et  it.     Seed  it  bloom." 


LILY  93 

"You  didn't  see  nuthin'.  Bets  is  off.  I  has 
some  bone  twins  does  you  feel  heavy  an'  right." 

The  cook  hesitated.  "Not  now — after  sup 
per,"  he  conceded.  "Pick  dem  peelin's  up  an'  put 
'em  in  de  steam  kittle  at  de  end." 

The  Wildcat  began  the  business  of  disposing 
of  the  accumulated  debris.  He  undamped  the 
cover  of  a  forty-gallon  steam  kettle  which  stood 
beside  five  similar  food  engines.  He  took  one 
look  at  the  mess  in  the  kettle  and  interrupted  his 
work  long  enough  to  find  the  chef.  "OF  kittle 
half  full  wid  garbage." 

"Dat  ain't  garbage.  Put  dem  peelin's  in  like 
I  tole  you.  Dat  stuff  is  sour  mash.  Load  dem 
peelin's  in  wid  it." 

The  Wildcat  obeyed  orders  and  added  the 
potato  peelings  to  the  mysterious  looking  mass 
which  half  filled  the  interior  of  the  steam  kettle. 
"Cat's  good.  Now  git  de  table  set.  To-night  I 
shows  you  how  de  moon  kin  shine  inside  a  boat." 

"You  means  likker?"  The  Wildcat  smacked 
two  hopeless  lips. 

"I  means  likker.  F'm  here  to  N'O'leans  us 
makes  it  an'  ages  it  fresh  every  day.  Dat's  why 
dese  Shippin'  Board  boats  needs  such  big  cook 
house  crews.  Half  de  time  used  up  makin'  moon 
shine  fo'  dese  white  folks  whut  runs  de  boat." 


94  LILY 

"Whut  dis  likker  taste  like"?  Whut  name 
does  you  call  it?" 

"Tastes  like  dey  ain't  enough.  Boys  calls  it 
joy  brine." 

"Named  afteh  dat  Democrank  president  run- 
nin'  boy?' 

"Ain't  dat  kind.     Dis  is  picklin'  brine," 


CHAPTER   VIII 


THROUGH  the  long  days  of  the  Roller's 
staggering  cruise  the  Wildcat  peeled 
potatoes  and  carried  treacherous  trays  of 
food  across  rolling  decks  and  dreamed  of  a  hap 
pier  state  where  a  boy's  feet  stayed  put  when  he 
set  'em  down.  Heaven  became  a  place  where 
there  were  no  potatoes  to  be  peeled.  If  the 
management  craved  to  have  potatoes  in  heaven, 
all  right,  but  peeling  them  was  an  occupation  ap 
propriate  for  the  Devil's  house-guests. 

In  confidential  conversation  with  his  mascot 
goat  the  Wildcat  assured  Lily  that  here  was  the 
dwindle  end  of  their  prowl.  "When  us  gits  to 
dry  land  us  takes  root.  'Cept  for  de  trib'lation 
us  missed  in  dat  Temple  o'  Luck  bizness,  us  is  mis- 
put  on  de  rollin'  wave.  When  I  gits  landed  I 
settles  down  on  a  farm  wid  a  mule  whah  I  sees 
de  same  sights  every  day." 

The  fat  cook,  overhearing  a  statement  of  the 
Wildcat's  ambition,  drew  cards  and  sat  into  the 
farm  game.  "Only  way  to  live  whut  is,"  Bam 

95 


96  LILY 

commented.  "You  sleeps  when  you  craves  to, 
you  gits  up  when  you  likes.  Farm  kaint  sink  an' 
de  land  neveh  blows  up.  You  raises  yo'  vittles. 
You  has  yams  an'  roast  in'  ears,  garden  truck,  side 
meat,  ham  gravy,  biskits,  pot  likker,  greens 
an'— " 

"Bam,  hush !  Come  frost  you  barbecues  mebbe 
two  shoats  whut  has  growed  heavy  on  chink'pins 
and  hick'ry  nuts.  You  takes  de  ol'  britch  loader 
an'  blows  ol'  possum  off  de  high  limb.  You  baits 
a  barb  hook  an'  next  mawnin'  when  you  runs  de 
trot  line  dey's  six  o'  eight  catfish  hitched  an' 
waitin'  fo'  de  hot  pan.  Boy,  anybody  whut  don't 
live  on  a  farm  is  got  de  brain  feebles." 

"Dey  sho'  is!  Live  high,  work  low.  Let  de 
oP  mule  work.  Front  end  gentle, — hind  end 
wild.  Tames  down  de  hind  end  wid  a  plough. 
Mule  does  de  work.  You  does  de  high  livin'." 

Bam  was  silent  for  a  little  while,  lost  in  con 
templation  of  his  dream  of  ease  and  then,  in  a 
sudden  outburst  of  friendliness,  he  staked  his  roll 
on  a  single  throw.  "Wilecat,  I  got  fo'  thousand 
dollahs  whut  I'se  saved  up.  When  us  lands  whut 
you  say  us  gits  a  patch  o'  land4?  Git  a  gran'  farm 
fo'  dat  money.  F'm  den  on  all  us  does  is  set 
on  de  sunny  side  of  de  Gold  Mountain  an'  watch 
Lady  Luck  do  de  work." 


LILY  97 

"Bam,  Fse  wid  you!  Rollin'  wave,  fare  thee 
well.  Fse  a  settlin5  down  nigger.  When  ol' 
angel  Gabe  toots  de  hawn  fo'  de  las'  'sembly  my 
whah'bouts  is  located  on  de  li'l  farm!" 

In  New  Orleans  the  pair  fell  into  the  clutches 
of  a  real  estate  man  and  after  a  few  preliminaries 
the  southwest  quarter  of  the  northeast  quarter  of 
section  thirteen,  township  too  far  south,  range  not 
enough  west,  was  transferred  to  its  new  owners. 

Bam  began  the  business  of  disgorging  the  ac 
cumulated  roll  with  which  his  own  Lady  Luck 
had  boomed  him  through  long  years  of  saving. 
Five  minutes  later,  with  the  Wildcat  at  his  side 
and  Lily  trailing  after  them,  Bam  marched  out  of 
the  real  estate  office. 

On  the  street  the  Wildcat  looked  at  the  cook. 
"I  fo'got  to  ask  de  man  how  us  gits  to  whah  de 
farm  is  at." 

"I  knows.  Come  on.  Us  lays  in  some  grub 
an'  supplies." 

"Bam,  how  much  money  is  you  got  left?" 

"Tops  a  little  on  two  hund'ed  dollahs.  How 
much  is  you*?" 

The  Wildcat  counted  the  residue  of  his  wages. 
"Goin'  on  forty  dollahs. 

"Dat's  enough.  Come  on  heah*  Us  gits  de 
outfit," 


98  LILY 

At  two  o'clock,  after  three  hours  devoted  to  the 
business  of  laying  in  a  load  of  assorted  groceries 
which  cut  heavily  into  the  depleted  treasury,  the 
pair  started  for  the  forty-acre  farm  in  a  hired 
wagon.  To  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  ride  the 
driver  of  the  wagon  regaled  them  with  slugs  of 
local  geography.  "See  dat  splindlin'  oak, — dat's 
whah  de  Todd  boys  wuz  hung." 

"Culled  boys?" 

"Plain  nigger.  Turned  some  culled  when  de 
chokin'  rope  got  tight.  Dat  crik  down  theh  is 
whah  de  white  folks  baptised  young  Blatch  Fen 
nel  de  time  he  got  sinful  an'  loaned  a  hawg  f'm 
ol'  Judge  Harkness.  Baptised  him  plenty. 
Neveh  come  up.  Swimmin'  yet  wid  de 
mud-cats." 

"Ain't  dey  no  pleasant  views?"  The  Wildcat 
was  fed  up  on  local  items. 

"Wait  'till  us  gits  to  yo'  farm.  Dat's  pleasant 
enough.  Pleasant  'cept  at  night.  Trees  thick 
wid  owls.  Owls  keep  askin'  "who"  like  dey 
missed  somebody." 

"Us  tells  'em  who  wid  dis  britch  loader.  How 
far  is  de  farm  f'm  heah?" 

"Toppin'  de  nex'  hill.  Rollin'  piece  by  de 
droopin'  cypress." 

"You  means  dat  swamp  lookin'  land?" 


LILY  99 

"Some  swampy.  Cabin's  on  de  high  groun'. 
You  sees  it  now." 

"Whut's  dat  town  'way  yonder  whah  dem 
chu'ches  is?" 

"Ain't  no  town.  Dem  ain't  chu'ches.  Dem's 
oil  rigs  fo'  drillin'  dis  rock  oil  outen  de 
groun'." 

"You  means  dat  black  oil  like  long  sweetnin' 
'lasses  whut  dey  burns  'stid  of  coal  on  de 
boats?' 

"Dat's  it.  An'  whilst  us  is  on  de  subject, 
look  out  fo'  dem  oil  boys.  Dey  looks  black 
like  niggers  but  dey's  hardshell  white.  Does  you 
crave  a  ruckus  find  yo'se'f  a  grizzle  bear  but 
don't  neveh  start  no  thin'  wid  a  oil  man  'less  you 
craves  leadin'  a  slow  drag,  layin'  down,  to  whah 
yo'  next'  of  kin  awaits  de  boxed  remains." 

"Ain't  lookin'  fo'  no  ruckus.  Here  us  is. 
Sho'  a  noble  cabin." 

The  wagon  drew  up  in  front  of  a  broken  down 
shack.  At  one  end  a  chimney  of  mud  and  sticks 
lifted  against  a  background  of  drooping  cypress 
trees.  A  broken  door  in  the  front  wall  of  the 
cabin,  hanging  by  one  rawhide  hinge,  swung  open 
in  a  surly  welcome  to  the  new  tenants. 

"Don't  look  like  nobody  wuz  home.  Betteh 
dan  us  boys  had  in  France  whilst  us  wuz  killin' 


ioo  LILY 

dem  bad  folks.  Come  on  heah,  Lily.  See  whut's 
inside." 

A  fireplace,  two  rude  bunks,  a  broken  table  and 
four  shelves  against  one  end  of  the  cabin  com 
pleted  the  inventory. 

Stored  on  the  shelves  at  the  end  of  the  cabin 
the  wagonload  of  groceries  which  had  loomed  so 
large  lost  its  impressive  bulk.  When  the  supplies 
were  parked  the  Wildcat  stood  for  a  moment 
looking  into  the  future.  "Bam,  when  dem  gro 
ceries  is  et,  whah  at  is  us*?" 

"By  dat  time  us  raises  garden  truck.     Now 


us  eats." 


The  next  hour  was  devoted  to  the  business  of 
eating  ten  dollars'  worth  of  high  priced  food. 
At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal  the  Wildcat  was 
half  a  ham  ahead  of  his  partner-  "Whuff! 
Sho'  is  noble  rations.  Dis  farm  life  sho'  is 
grand.'* 

No  reply.  Bam  was  asleep.  Five  minutes 
later,  while  Lily  was  polishing  the  fragments 
which  had  fallen  from  the  lap  of  luxury,  the 
Wildcat  drifted  into  the  land  of  dreams. 

Lady  Luck,  noting  the  acute  attack  of  laziness 
which  had  attacked  her  favorite,  gathered  her 
skirts  about  her  and  began  a  disgusted  retreat 
from  the  theatre  of  idleness. 


LILY  101 

The  Wildcat,  dreaming  of  a  land  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey,  was  headed  for  a  different  do 
main,  where  Old  Man  Trouble  dealt  the  cards* 


Until  the  groceries  were  consumed  the  Wild 
cat  and  Bam  managed  to  evade  any  more  strenu 
ous  occupation  than  that  involved  in  the  de 
struction  of  five  or  six  meals  each  day.  Now 
and  then  one  of  the  pair  would  respond  faintly 
to  the  urge  of  industry  but  invariably  the  good 
resolutions  succumbed  to  some  stronger  force, 
with  the  result  that  the  end  of  the  month  found 
nothing  much  remaining  on  the  cabin  shelves 
except  ants  and  dust. 

'Tse  got  twelve  dollahs  left,  Bam.  'Spose  you 
goes  to  town  an'  sees  kin  you  lug  back  dat  much 
groceries." 

"You  is  built  lightest,  Wildcat.  I  betteh  stay 
heah  on  guard  whilst  you  makes  de  trip." 

"Don't  need  no  guard.  OP  farm  stay  here 
a  long  time  yit." 

The  argument  terminated  in  a  deadlock  which 
was  solved  late  one  afternoon  by  the  arrival  of 
a  rangy  white  man  who  bounced  into  view  on 
the  seat  of  a  buckboard  hauled  by  a  pair  of 


102  LILY 

languid  mules.  The  stranger  addressed  the 
Wildcat.  "Where's  the  men  that  own  this 
place?' 

"Cap'n  suh,  I  owns  half.  Otheh  boy  is 
sleepin'." 

The  white  man  shoved  a  folded  sheet  of  paper 
at  the  Wildcat.  "Tax  bill,"  he  said.  "We've 
been  hunting  the  last  owner  for  two  months  now. 
Ain't  no  record  of  the  transfer  yet.  You  got  a 
week  left  to  pay  this.  I'll  be  back  Wednes 
day." 

"Cap'n,  yessuh.  Does  you  mind  tellin'  me 
whut  de  papeh  says?  I  kaint  read, — much." 

"The  paper  says  cash, — three  hundred  and 
some  odd  dollars  to  the  county  treasurer  at  the 
court  house  before  Thursday  night." 

"Cap'n,  yessuh!" 

For  ten  minutes  after  the  white  man  left  the 
Wildcat  did  some  troubled  thinking.  No  folded 
up  paper  never  meant  nothing  good  for  a  boy, 
nohow,  let  alone  one  comin'  from  a  white  man. 
This  one  was  no  exception.  He  awakened  his 
partner  and  asked  some  questions.  The  cook, 
versed  in  the  cares  which  civilization  inflicts  upon 
the  average  citizen,  was  able  to  comprehend  the 
difficulty. 

"Wilecat,   I  neveh   thought   about   dis   item. 


LILY  103 

Tax  money  fo'  de  white  folks  at  de  cote  house.' ' 

"Tax  money?" 

"I  said  so.     OP  judge  an'  de  rest  whut  hangs 
'round  de  cote  house  needs  groceries  same  as 


us." 


"Doggone  dat  Lady  Luck."  The  Wildcat 
looked  at  his  mascot  goat.  "Lily,  come  heah. 
Whut  us  gwine  do?" 

The  goat  made  no  response  except  to  snap  at 
a  roving  bumble  bee  that  had  figured  on  parking 
a  stinger  in  Lily's  nose.  Something  in  the  mas 
cot's  action  reminded  the  Wildcat  of  an  instant 
when  one  of  a  pair  of  rolling  dice,  carved  from 
an  Irish  potato,  had  been  accumulated  by  Lily's 
lightning  tongue. 

The  Wildcat  turned  quickly  to  the  cook. 
"Bam,  I  knows  de  way  out.  Say  no  moj.  Us 
gits  de  rations.  I'se  got  twelve  dollahs  an'  de 
little  gallopers  whut  has  stood  by  me  since  de 
A.  E.  Fracas.  I  goes  to  town  an'  rallies  roun' 
de  tree  whah  de  greenbacks  bloom.  When  de 
cube  frost  hits  dat  tree  you  needs  a  wagon  to 
haul  de  leaves  back.  I'se  gone !" 

With  Lily  trailing  at  his  heels  the  Wildcat 
plodded  along  the  road  to  town. 

In  the  town,  at  a  one-chair  barber  shop  where 
hair-cuts  were  ten  cents,  without  musk,  he  en- 


104  LILY 

countered  the  opposition  which  he  craved.  "Git 
in  de  back  room  wid  dat  gam'lin'  talk." 

Followed  by  four  willing  gladiators  the  Wild 
cat  walked  into  the  back  room.  He  hauled  out 
a  few  silver  fragments  of  his  stake  and  dug  up 
the  twin  cubes.  He  rubbed  the  gallopers  on 
Lily's  head,  behind  the  ears.  "Wild  man,  fall 
back  dead.  Shoots  fifty  cents.  Fade  me  is  you 
plumb  dumb.  I  craves  action!" 

"Graver,  roll  an'  groan." 

The  Wildcat  slammed  the  family  jewels  into 
a  garden  where  a  seven  bloomed.  "I  reads  six- 
ace.  Lets  it  rest.  Show  money,  wild  men,  is 
you  crazy.33 

"I'se  crazy.  Roll  'em."  A  liberty  dollar  hit 
the  Wildcat's  stake. 

"Lily,  stan'  by  me.  Lady  Luck,  shower  down. 
I'se  on  my  prowl  an'  I  drinks  money-blood. 
Wham!  ...  I  reads, — doggone!  How  come 
snake-eye?" 

"Loses  no  thin'  but  time  an'  money?  Dey's 
yo'  dice — kick  'em." 

The  Wildcat  fished  after  some  more  silver. 
"Shoots  a  dollah.  I'se  a  wave-tail  varmint  an' 
I'se  on  my  prowl.  Whuff!  ...  an'  I  reads — 
ace-dooce !  Doggone,  Lily,  git  behind  me." 

"You  still  owns  'em,  boy, — prowl  on  yo'  way." 


LILY  105 

The  Wildcat  continued  his  prowl  at  about 
four  bits  a  step  until  he  encountered  his  final  ten- 
cent  piece.  Confident  that  here  at  the  eleventh 
hour  Lady  Luck  would  rally  to  her  favorite  he 
indulged  in  some  heavy  language.  "Builds  f'm 
a  jitney  'till  you  sells  yo'  clothes.  Still  prowlin'. 
When  I'se  done  dead  varmints  chokes  de  road. 
Run  up  f'm  a  dime  to  a  busted  bank.  When  I 
quits  I  needs  a  mule  to  haul  de  money." 

* 'Bones  kaint  hear  you.  You  claims  big, — 
see  kin  you  roll  dat  way." 

The  big  claimer  breathed  a  final  prayer  and 
greeted  the  advent  of  victory  with  a  premature 
yowl  of  welcome.  He  slammed  the  rattlers  from 
him  with  a  wide  gesture  which  told  the  world 
that  pay-day  was  now.  Wham! 

The  gallopers  subsided  near  the  wall.  On 
their  sinister  faces  snake-eyes  spoke  the  venom 
of  defeat.  The  prowler  shrunk  four  sizes, 
"I'se  done." 

'Til  say  you'se  done.     You  is  had  yo'  prowl." 

Dragging  Lily  at  the  end  of  her  string  the 
Wildcat  shuffled  away  from  misery.  "Come  on 
heah,  Lily.  Us  mingles  de  news  wid  ol'  Bam." 

Long  after  midnight  the  Wildcat  entered  the 
cabin  door.  "Bam,  is  you  sleepin"?" 

"Kaint  sleep  whilst  mah  stummick  is  so  wide 


106  LILY 

awake.  Whah  is  dem  groceries'?  I  sho'  most 
starved  in  two." 

"Us  bofe.  Ain't  no  groceries.  Ain't  mithin', 
• — not  'less  you  is  reaped  some  rabbits  wid  de 
britch  loader." 

"Ain't  no  rabbits.  Whut  you  do  wid  de 
money?" 

"Consecrate  de  money  on  de  freckle  bones. 
Money  dwindled  down  to  ten  cents.  Snake-eye 
showed  an'  de  ten  cents  neveh  stopped  to  say 
goodbye." 

"Wilecat,  wuz  fool  niggers  a  nickel  a  load 
you  is  a  million  dollahs.  Git  to  sleep.  Leave 
me  sleep  whilst  dey  ain't  no  eatin'  to  do." 

"You  anj  me  both."  From  the  black  voids 
whence  hope-  had  fled  the  Wildcat's  old  phil 
osophy,  tempered  a  little  by  his  hunger,  fought 
its  way  to  expression.  Lily  and  the  fat  cook,  half 
asleep,  heard  the  mumbled  words  that  proclaimed 
to-morrow  the  master  of  to-day. 

I  eats  when  I  kin  git  it, 
I  sleeps  mos'  all  de  time — 
I  don't  give  a  doggone  if 
De  sun  don't  neveh  shine. 

Hungrier  than  he  had  been  for  many  long 
weeks  the  Wildcat  faced  a  future  wherein  threats 


LILY  107 

replaced  promises.  He  flopped  despondently 
against  the  cabin  wall.  "Wish  ol'  Cap'n  Jack 
was  here.  Wish  Lady  Luck  knowed  how  us 
craves  rations.  Doggone  dis  farm  bizness." 


CHAPTER   IX 


SOME  hours  later,  when  the  Wildcat  be 
gan  to  believe  that  food  would  henceforth 
rank  with  other  happy  memories  of  the 
past,  Lady  Luck  came  rambling  down  the  road 
in  a  car  whose  roaring  motor  told  the  world 
that  here  was  action  and  lots  of  it.  Lady  Luck 
was  convoyed  by  a  chauffeur  and  three  rapid  fire 
white  men. 

In  the  front  of  the  cabin  the  three  white  men 
got  out  of  the  car.  The  Wildcat  sized  up  the 
group.  "Shower  down,  Satan.  Here  comes  dem 
tax  folks  to  run  me  an'  Bam  into  de  swamp." 
For  a  moment  his  hunger  was  forgotten.  He 
got  to  his  feet  and  picked  up  Lily's  leading 
string.  "Come  'long,  Lily,  an'  come  agile.  Us 
gits  elsewhere  befo'  dem  white  folks  sees  kin 
dey  shoot  like  dey  aims." 

His  retreat  was  halted  by  a  hail  from  one  of 

108 


LILY  109 

the  dressed-up  white  men.  "Your  name  Vitus 
Marsden?" 

The  Wildcat  stopped  and  acknowledged  his 
identity.  "Cap'n,  yessuh.  Dat's  my  wet-head 
name  whut  I  got  at  de  baptisin',  but  mos'  folks 
calls  me  Wilecat." 

"Where's  the  other  boy?" 

"Bam, — he  is  seein'  kin  Jifi  £leep  some  in  de 
cabin,  suh." 

"Get  him  out  here, — we  want  to  talk  to  you." 

The  Wildcat  summoned  Bam  to  his  share  of 
their  common  fate.  "Come  out  heah,  big  boy. 
De  tax  folks  is  got  us." 

The  fat  cook  got  to  his  feet  and  dragged  along 
behind  the  Wildcat  to  where  the  white  folks 
stood  beside  the  car. 

One  of  the  white  men  addressed  the  farm 
owners.  "What  do  you  hold  this  land  at?" 

The  Wildcat  remembered  Barn's  four  thou 
sand  dollars.  Even  a  quick  talking  tax  man 
would  see  that  the  farm  had  mighty  little  sal 
vage  value.  He  braced  himself  and  spoke  of 
values.  "Cap'n  suh,  I  riggers  a  thousan'  dollahs 
would  be  middlin'  right." 

The  white  man  hauled  out  a  little  black  book, 
two  folded  sheets  of  paper  and  a  fountain  pen 


no  LILY 

with  motions  a  little  less  rapid  than  those  of  a 
striking  rattler.  "One  thousand.  Even  forty 
acres.'-  He  wrote  as  he  talked.  "I  know  it's 
the  best  farm  in  the  county,  like  all  the  rest 
of  them,  and  that  you're  making  a  crop  worth  a 
hundred  an  acre  like  everybody  else.  One  thou 
sand.  Forty  acres.  Forty  thousand  dollars. 
Sign  your  name  to  this  title  transfer."  He  un 
folded  two  documents  and  handed  them  to  the 
Wildcat.  "Bottom  line.  Vitus  Marsden  to  the 
Heavy  Oil  Corporation.  That's  my  outfit." 

"Cap'n  suh,  I  neveh  learned  much  writin'. 
OF  Bam  writes  good." 

The  white  man  signed  the  Wildcat's  name. 
"Make  your  mark  here." 

The  Wildcat  made  his  mark  and  passed  the 
papers  to  the  fat  cook.  Bam,  not  yet  fully 
awake,  signed  his  name  languidly. 

The  white  man  handed  a  little  blue  slip  of 
paper  to  the  Wildcat.  "Check  on  the  First  Na 
tional.  Forty  thousand  dollars.  That's  done. 
You  boys  can  live  here  until  the  crew  begins 
setting  the  drill  rig  next  week." 

When  the  automobile  and  the  rapid-fire  white 
men  were  half  a  mile  down  the  road  the  Wildcat 
quit  batting  his  eyes  long  enough  to  look  side 
ways  at  the  slip  of  blue  paper.  He  handed 


LILY  111 

it  to  the  fat  cook.     "Whut  dis  mean,  Bam?" 

"La^wd  wid  wings!  De  man  thought  you 
said  thousan'  fo'  one  acre  'stid  de  whole  farm. 
Wilecat,  us  is  got  fo'ty  thousan5  dollahs!" 

"Tell  me  gentle !  Kaint  think  so  big  in  money. 
Whut  did  de  papeh  say?" 

"Dat's  a  check  papeh  whut  tells  de  bank  boy 
pay  Vitus  Marsden  fo'ty  thousan'  dollahs." 

"Lady  Luck,  how  come  I  doubt  you!  Le's 
ramble  befo'  de  bank  boy  goes  blind.  Fo'ty 
thousan' !  Bam,  dat's  twenty-twenty,  me  an' 
you!  Come  on  heah,  Lily." 

Over  the  last  three  miles  of  the  race  the  Wild 
cat  covered  the  ground  with  Lily  galloping  fifty, 
yards  behind  him  and  Bam  lost  in  a  cloud  of 
dust.  Midway  of  the  stampede  shoes  and  shirts 
and  other  superfluous  raiment  were  discarded. 
At  two  o'clock,  perspiring  freely,  barefooted  and 
hatless,  the  Wildcat  entered  the  doors  of  the 
First  National.  The  terrifying  delays  of  identi 
fication  hit  the  victims  like  the  seven-year  itch 
but  finally  payment  was  accomplished  and  a 
great  pile  of  packed  currency  flowed  under  the 
paying  teller's  grille.  "You  boys  want  to  de 
posit  that  money  here?" 

"Cap'n  suh,  whut  you  mean,  deposit?" 

"Leave  it  here  so  you  won't  get  robbed." 


112  LILY, 

The  Wildcat  looked  at  the  stacked  bank  notes 
on  the  slab  in  front  of  him.  "I'd  like  some  fo' 
groceries  an'  such.  Ain't  et  me  nothin'  foj  three 
days.  Nothin'  much,  dat  is.  Me  an'  Bam  needs 
some  shoes, — de  flies  is  so  bad  on  feet.  Kin  us 
have  mebbe  twenty  dollahs  'till  Sat'day*?" 

The  paying  teller  handed  each  of  them  a  stack 
of  ten-dollar  bills.  "Here's  a  hundred  dollars 
apiece."  He  made  an  entry  in  a  pair  of  thiii 
books  and  handed  one  of  the  books  to  Wildcat. 
"Nineteen  thousand,  nine  hundred  to  your 
credit." 

Bam  picked  up  his  book  and  asked  a  few 
questions.  "Dis  book  means  I'sc  got  money  in 
de  bank  no  matteh  where  I  goes'?" 

"Twenty  thousand, — less  the  hundred  I  gave 
you." 

"Folks,  goodbye.  Mah  feet  is  leadin'. 
Wilecat,  now  I  heads  for  Alabam'  whah  I  be 
longs.  Some  day  I  sees  you." 

Bam  was  on  his  way. 

The  Wildcat  stowed  his  hundred  in  his  pants 
pocket  and  then  for  a  little  while  he  lingered  in 
the  bank.  Presently  his  brain  stopped  spinning 
long  enough  to  let  his  stomach  record  its  de 
mands.  Thereafter,  until  evening,  he  occupied  a 
chair  in  the  Home  Club  restaurant,  In  front  of 


LILY  113 

him  a  heavy  table  sagged  with  food.  Beside 
him,  on  the  floor,  Lily  chattered  around  over  a 
layout  of  nutriment  which  renewed  her  faith 
in  the  existence  of  a  goat  heaven.  Now  and 
then  the  Wildcat  stopped  eating  long  enough  to 
pay  his  bill.  By  six  o'clock  he  had  managed 
to  eat  his  way  through  thirty  dollars  and  a  few 
moments  later,  weighing  more  than  he  had  for 
some  months,  he  struggled  to  his  feet.  "Whuff! 
Dat's  de  best  I  kin  do  wid  dese  crampin'  pants. 
Got  to  git  me  some  big  size  clo'es." 

The  restaurant  man  gave  him  an  admiring 
look.  "You  done  noble.  You  is  easy  de  eatin- 
ist  man  in  de  worl'." 

"I'se  de  sleepinist.  Come  on,  Lily.  Us  sees 
kin  us  sleep  some." 

"You  got  a  room  in  town^"  The  restaurant 
man  craved  to  retain  his  champion  customer. 

"Us  ain't  got  none  yit.  •' 

"I  lodges  you  upstairs  in  a  gran'  front  room 
at  fo'  bits  a  day." 

"Dat's  us.     Whah  at's  de  room  T 

Led  by  the  restaurant  proprietor  the  Wildcat 
and  Lily  mounted  a  rickety  stairway  and  voyaged 
down  a  dim  hall  and  entered  the  four-bit  room. 
Two  minutes  later  the  Wildcat  was  asleep. 
His  sleep  was  unbroken  except  for  a  persistent 


ii4  LILY 

vision  of  a  cloudburst  wherein  each  green  rain 
drop,  larger  than  the  last,  bore  on  its  surface  a 
dollar  mark  and  a  seven. 

On  the  floor  beside  the  bed,  bulging  comfort 
ably,  the  mascot  goat  helped  steady  with  the  sleep 
business.  Above  the  pair,  smiling  her  smile  and 
making  her  plans,  hovered  Lady  Luck. 


"Wake  up,  Lily !  Us  is  rich  an'  when  you  is 
rich  you  is  happy!  Us  is  happy  wid  enough 
money  to  las'  f'm  now  on.  Come  on,  heah." 

Trailed  by  his  mascot  the  Wildcat  began  a 
spending  campaign.  First  of  all,  shoes.  "Yaller 
shoes  wid  rag  tops.  Sort  o'  ague  gray  tops." 
At  a  jewelry  store  he  accumulated  a  verdigris 
gold  watch.  "Kaint  tell  whut  time  de  watch 
say  but  de  ol'  chain  sho'  looks  gran'."  A  wide 
gray  hat  with  an  orange  band  followed  the  pur 
chase  of  a  suit  of  clothes  whose  yellow  fabric 
was  checked  at  six-inch  intervals  by  purple 
stripes.  The  vest  was  discarded  in  favor  of  a 
double-breasted  crimson  creation,  shot  with  green 
dominoes.  A  blushing  violet  shirt  with  green 
cuffs  and  a  blue  collar  served  as  a  background 
for  a  striped  scarf  of  lemon  and  black.  A  pair 


LILY  115 

of  bull  blood  gloves  and  a  gold-headed  cane  com 
pleted  the  effect. 

Against  a  day  when  eating  tobacco  might  be 
scarce  he  bought  two  long  plugs  of  pressed  leaf 
and  stowed  them  in  the  moist  environment  of  his 
hip  pockets. 

That  was  done.  "Dese  shoes  needs  shinin'." 
He  bought  six  mulatto  colored  cigars  and  lighted 
one  after  bestowing  its  mate  upon  the  mascot 
goat.  "Have  a  eatin'  cigar,  Lily.  Us  is  rich 
an'  happy." 

Something  in  Lily's  pose  cast  a  shadow  of 
doubt  upon  the  business  of  happiness.  "Goat, 
you  looks  ragged.  Come  on  heah,  'till  us  gits 
you  dressed  up." 

The  Wildcat  returned  to  the  shoe  store  and 
bought  Lily  two  pairs  of  child's  size  moccasins. 
He  laced  them  on  the  mascot's  feet  and  then 
retraced  his  course  to  the  clothing  store  where 
he  invested  in  a  second  silk  shirt  which  was  pres 
ently  draped  around  Lily's  narrow  chest.  The 
mascot  submitted  to  further  decoration  in  the 
form  of  a  flaring  yellow  necktie  and  a  boy's  size 
straw  hat  from  which  dangled  the  ends  of  a  bow 
of  blue  ribbon.  Against  the  richness  of  the  silk 
shirt  Lily's  string  tether  struck  a  false  note  and 


ii6  LILY 

forthwith  the  goat  was  haled  to  a  hardware  store 
where  a  brass  collar,  studded  with  spikes,  was 
fitted  around  her  neck  above  the  yellow  scarf. 
To  this  collar  was  attached  a  thin  brass  chain. 
The  Wildcat  stood  back  and  surveyed  his  mas 
cot.  "Goat,  I  to?  you  many's  de  time  Lady 
Luck  some  day  shower  down  de  big  money  an' 
make  us  happy.  You  looks  gran'  now  but  us 
fo'got  de  gran'des'  present  of  all.  Remembeh 
I  said  some  day  Fd  buy  you  a  go?  watch  an' 
chain.  Come  on  heah !" 

The  Wildcat  returned  to  the  jewelry  store 
wherein  he  purchased,  at  gold  prices,  a  massive 
brass  watch  and  chain.  He  pinned  the  watch 
into  the  pocket  of  Lily's  silk  shirt  and  tied  the  end 
of  the  chain  to  the  mascot's  necktie. 

"Now  you  sho'  is  quality.  Rich  an'  happy! 
Say  you  is  much  o-blige  fo'  all  de  good  luck." 

"Blaa-a!"  Lily  voiced  an  expression  of  her 
sentiment  but  in  her  voice  anyone  who  under 
stood  goat  language  might  have  detected  more 
of  annoyance  than  of  happiness.  Somewhere  in 
the  mascot's  utterance  was  a  longing  for  a  re 
turn  to  the  simple  life. 

The  pair  left  the  jewelry  store  and  started 
across  the  street.  Midway  of  the  thoroughfare 
they  halted  to  let  a  snorting  automobile  pass 


LILY  117 

them.  The  plunging  car  awakened  a  new  am 
bition  in  the  Wildcat's  mind.  "Us  needs  a  auto'- 
beel.  Rich  folks  rides  in  'em  an'  us  is  rich." 

On  the  sidewalk  the  Wildcat  turned  to  one 
of  the  accumulated  gang  of  two-legged  satel 
lites.  "How  much  does  dese  autobeels  cost  now 
days?" 

"Thousan5  dollahs, — mebbe  mo'.  Depen's  on 
de  looks." 

"Whah  at  kin  us  git  one?" 

Five  minutes  later  the  Wildcat  was  negotiating 
for  the  purchase  of  a  car.  "One  of  dese  high 
tone  auto'beels  wid  glass  sides  like  a  hot-house. 
Long  an'  slantin'  back,  wid  de  runnin'  boy  set- 
tin'*  up  front  an'  me  an  Lily  ridin'  de  back 


seat." 


The  matter  of  payment  for  the  car  was  ar 
ranged  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  vendor  and  a 
car  was  promised  for  delivery  at  six  o'clock  that 
night. 

The  Wildcat  made  his  fourth  trip  to  the  bank. 
"You  better  leave  some  of  that  money  on  de 
posit,"  the  paying  teller  advised. 

"Cap'n,  yessuh.  All  us  needs  is  a  thousan5 
dollahs  fo'  a  auto'beel  an'  a  thousan1  mo'  fo' 
'spenses.  Eatin'  money  an'  such." 

The  automobile  was  delivered  to  the  purchaser 


ii8  LILY 

at  six  o'clock.  "Sho5  looks  noble.  Grandes' 
auto'beel  I  eveh  see.  Git  in,  Lily."  The  yel 
low  paint  had  made  good.  The  Wildcat  ad 
dressed  the  boy  at  the  wheel.  "How  much  you 
want  to  drive  steady  fo'  me  an'  Lily?" 

The  driver  hired  himself  out  at  war-time  daily 
wage  and  immediately  regretted  that  he  had  not 
doubled  the  amount.  The  Wildcat  climbed  into 
the  back  seat  beside  the  mascot.  "Drive  'roun' 
an*  'roun',"  he  directed.  "Down  de  main  streets, 
an'  back."  He  delivered  a  farewell  address 
to  the  throng  about  him.  "Gents,  at  seven 
o'clock  me  an'  Lily  invites  you  all  to  eat  a  gran' 
banquit  at  de  New  Home  restaurant.  De  grub 
is  free.  Afteh  de  eatin'  part  is  done  de  festal 
orgies  will  begin.  One  an'  all  you  is  welcome." 

For  an  hour,  with  his  mascot  sweating  be 
side  him,  the  Wildcat  was  driven  round  and  round 
in  his  hot-house  car  according  to  his  expressed 
desires.  "Us  is  rich,  Lily.  Gran'  clo'es,  gran' 
auto'beel,  goP  watch, — you  an'  me  both.  GoP 
headed  cane, — us  sho'  is  rich  an'  happy." 

The  goat  attempted  to  dislodge  a  green  fly 
which  persisted  in  roosting  under  the  protection 
of  the  studded  collar. 

"What  you  mean  shakin'  yo'  head  no?" 

"Blaa-a !"     Lily  admitted  that  home  had  never 


LILY  119 

been  like  this,  but  whether  or  not  she  was  happy 
was  still  a  question. 

The  car  stopped  in  front  of  the  New  Home 
restaurant  where  a  hundred  pairs  of  bulging  eye 
balls  awaited  the  coming  of  the  lord  of  rations. 
Presently  the  hundred  guests  milled  and  per 
spired  at  the  task  of  eating  six  meals  on  one 
invitation. 

Midway  of  the  food  battle  and  while  his 
vocal  organs  could  still  function  the  host  rared 
back  on  his  hind  legs  and  proceeded  to  orate  into 
the  wiggling  ears  of  the  assemblage.  "Men  an' 
brethren.  Folks  calls  me  Wilecat.  I  is.  Once  I 
was  downtrod  an'  poor.  I  been  hungry  mos'  all 
de  time  'ceptin'  when  I  was  wid  ol'  Cap'n  Jack. 
He  was  mah  white  folks.  Many  de  time  I'se 
been  sad  an'  fo'lorn  wid  Lady  Luck  A.  W. 
O.  L.  an'  de  claws  of  grief  a  tearin'  at  my  in- 
sides.  Now  I'se  rich  an'  happy  an'  like  de 
preacheh  says  I  begins  to  sow  an'  reap.  Whilst 
I  thinks  of  it  I  announces  dat  as  soon  as  I  kin 
find  a  good  preacheh  I  aims  to  start  a  Wilecat 
chu'ch.  De  Wilecat  preacheh  ain't  gwine  pesteh 
you  does  you  crave  a  ra'r  of  gin,  week-days,  an' 
ask  how  come  you  is  so  steeped  in  sin.  Wile- 
cat  chu'ch  gwine  be  jes'  like  a  lodge  wid  a  gran' 
ruckus  ev'ry  night.  Dat's  all, — 'ceptin'  when 


120  LILY 

de  banjo  boys  gits  heah  us  sees  who  kin  shake  de 
mos'  agile  foot  fo'  de  gran'  prize,  whilst  to  de  right 
an*  lef  of  de  dancin'  flo'  is  li'l  green  pastures 
whah  de  gallopin'  cubes  roams  wild.  Does  de 
sevens  an'  'levens  bloom  easy  you  is  lucky,  an' 
does  sumpthin'  detain  'em  you  is  lucky  too, 
'cause  de  Wilecat  is  rich  an'  de  Wilecat  pays  de 
bills.  Resoom  yo'  battle  wid  de  rations." 

The  battle  slowed  up  an  hour  later  and  about 
the  room  a  dozen  crap  games  rattled  into  being. 
From  the  sea  of  chance  the  submerged  losers  came 
to  the  surface  and  drifted  to  the  Wildcat  where 
their  gambling  purses  were  replenished.  "Come 
easy,  go  easy."  In  an  hour  the  Wildcat  dis 
covered  that  his  supply  of  cash  was  exhausted  and 
thereafter  the  festivities  slowed  up  until  the  hour 
when  the  bank  opened  on  the  following  day. 

Thenceforth  for  a  week  the  Wildcat  banked 
both  sides  of  a  losing  game.  Repeated  warnings 
from  the  paying  teller  at  the  bank  went  unheeded 
and  at  the  moment  when  the  favorite  of  Lady 
Luck  had  realized  the  flavor  of  the  false  nectar 
the  cash  reserve  had  dwindled  to  a  measly  zero. 
He  stood  blinking  at  the  paying  teller's  window. 
"Us  aint  got  no  mo'  money?" 

"No  more.     The  account  is  closed." 

"Cap'n  suh,  you  means  I'se  done?" 


LILY  121 

"You're  done." 

"Come  on,  Lily.     De  boys  is  waitin'." 

The  prowler  climbed  into  his  hot-house  car. 
"Go  back  whah  at  de  boys  is,"  he  ordered.  Mid 
way  of  the  journey,  remembering  a  detail  of  the 
technique  of  financial  recuperation  he  changed 
his  orders.  "Drive  to  de  auto'beel  place.  Us 
gwine  sell  dis  olj  hot-house  trap.  Some  day  us 
gits  a  gran'  size  one." 

A  quick  sale  netted  a  hundred  dollars.  For 
Lily's  watch  and  his  own  the  Wildcat  reaped 
another  twenty.  On  foot  he  hurried  back  to  the 
place  where  half  a  dozen  crap  games  languidly 
awaited  the  coming  of  the  treasury  department. 
Perspiring  under  the  buttoned  coat  which  hid 
the  place  where  the  gaudy  watch  chain  had 
dangled,  swinging  the  gold  headed  cane  with  the 
old  royal  gesture,  the  Wildcat  faced  his  guests. 
Thirteen  seconds  later  the  hundred  and  twenty 
was  loaned  to  a  careless  devotee  of  the  freckled 
risk  cubes. 

Lady  Luck  whispered  low  and  earnestly. 
"Beat  it." 

"I'se  on  my  way." 

Silently  and  without  parade  the  Wildcat  slid 
through  the  back  door  of  the  New  Home  res 
taurant. 


122  LILY 

At  evening,  well  into  the  country  north  of 
town,  with  the  long  shadows  sneaking  across  the 
fields  and  bulking  black  in  the  depths  of  a  wood 
which  lined  the  road,  the  Wildcat  realized  that 
he  had  lived  his  little  day  of  wealth.  "Us  went 
some  whilst  de  joy  road  was  open." 

Detouring  around  a  graveyard  he  summoned 
his  mascot  goat  beside  him.  "Git  close  heah, 
Lily.  Some  varmint  git  you  some  day.  Shake 
dem  feet.  Us  is  Memphis  bound." 

A  rabbit  in  a  clover  patch  dodged  the  gold 
headed  cane.  "Goodbye,  brekfus'.  Almos'  et 
you,  ol'  cottontail." 

The  breakfast  craver  started  to  retrieve  his 
cane.  He  took  ten  steps  and  stopped.  Then  he 
turned  again  to  the  long  road.  "Don'  crave  dat 
oP  cane.  Minds  me  o'  dem  days  when  us  wuz 
rich  an'  loaded  down  wid  mis'ry.  Us  is  happy 
now,  Lily, — eats  when  we  kin  git  it,  sleeps  mosj 
all  de  time,  us  don't  give  a  doggone  if  de  sun 
don't  neveh  shine." 

Tramping  along  at  her  master's  side,  nibbling 
delicately  on  the  remains  of  her  straw  hat,  Lily 
answered,  and  now,  in  the  mascot's  voice,  there 
was  nothing  of  doubt.  "Blaa-a!  Me  an'  you 
both,  Wildcat." 


CHAPTER   X 

THE  Wildcat,  carrying  double,  lifted  his 
fiddling  feet  and  let  Lady  Luck  aim  them 
at  whatever  road  she  pleased  as  long  as 
it  was  Memphis  bound. 

In  the  frost  of  early  morning  he  trod  agile,  to 
hear  him  tell  it.  Just  then,  to  his  burden  of 
duplex  ambitions,  a  persimmon  tree,  branching 
against  the  horizon  up  ahead,  served  as  an  added 
incentive  to  speed.  Three  hundred  miles  south 
of  Memphis,  and  several  meals  behind  his  ra 
tion  schedule,  he  carried  twin  cravings.  One  was 
named  Memphis  and  the  other  Cap'n  Jack. 
"Neveh  leave  each  does  us  meet  up  wid  'em 
again." 

He  sighted  the  persimmon  tree  and  its  break 
fast  message.  He  issued  a  sharp  command  to 
his  mascot  goat  marching  behind  him.  "Hot 
foot,  Lily!  Double  time  dem  hind  laigs. 
Brekfus'  table  waitin'.  Step  wid  de  music!" 

He  supplied  the  music,  bending  Sis'  Eliza  an' 
de  Talkin'  Gin  to  his  persimmon  ambition : 

123 


124  LILY 

Sis'  Eliza  had  a  husban'  whut  acted  like  a  lamb, 
Handed  her  his  wages  ev'ry  pay-day  night. 
Kept  a  workin'  steady  'till  his  job  went — BAM! 
E-liza's  husban's  job  was  haulm'  nervous  dynamite. 

Sky-bound, — headed  fo'  de  promis'  land, 
Sky-bound, — "Saint  Peter,  I  shoots  you  fo'  de  key." 
Sky-bound, — wid  a  lily  in  each  hand, 
Sky-bound, — Peter  tol'  him,  "Don't  you  botheh  me." 

The  marching  pair  arrived  at  the  breakfast 
tree  and  Sis'  Eliza  was  dismissed.  "Goat,  rally 
roun'  grass  an'  see  kin  you  pos'pone  starvin'  to 
death  whilst  I  'sorbs  dese  p'simmons  de  good 
Lawd  done  sent.  .  .  .  Whuff!  Whut  you 
craves  depends  on  who  you  is  ...  Whuff! 
Bes'  p'simmons  I  ever  did  see.  Big  as  chilblains. 
Jes'  like  'em.  B'longs  to  who  gits  'em  an'  swells 
biggest  when  de  frost  hits  'em." 

He  began  to  bust  all  established  records  for 
persimmon  eating.  At  first  he  stood  erect  under 
the  tree,  stooping  to  reap  his  yellow  breakfast, 
and  then,  with  the  weight  of  half  the  crop  heavy 
within  him,  he  crawled  westward  across  the 
frosted  grass,  eating  as  he  went.  He  reached 
the  margin  of  the  food-bearing  area  and  began 
cutting  a  sunbound  swath  along  the  back  trail. 
When  the  shadow  of  his  devastating  progress  lay 


LILY  125 

like  a  band  of  gray  across  the  orange-blotched 
circle  under  the  trees  he  again  stood  upright. 
"Whuff!  Dat's  de  nobles'  brekfus'  I'se  et  since 
de  stevedo'  shock  troops  surrend'd  de  groceries 
in  de  battle  of  Vin  Blank." 

He  called  to  his  mascot  goat.  "Lily,  is  you 
etyo'  full  ration?' 

Lily,  leaning  heavily  against  the  briers  of  a 
blackberry  bush,  managed  to  emit  an  affirmative 
reply  that  had  its  origin  near  the  center  of  a 
bushel  of  grass.  "Blaa-a!" 

"Come  on  den,  you  fo'  legged  lawn-mower. 
Ain't  no  finger  bowls  on  dis  table.  Git  marchin'. 
Us  is  Memphis  bound  whah  at  ol'  Cap'n  Jack 
is  waitin'  an'  a-cussin'  his  prodigal  nigger." 

In  the  grateful  morning  sunlight  the  Wildcat 
resumed  his  northbound  prowl.  A  little  ahead 
of  him  the  grass-gorged  mascot  lolled  along  in 
slow  time  with  the  droning  exposure  of  poor 
Sis'  Eliza's  troubles  with  the  Talkin'  Gin. 

De  dynamite  wuz  early,  Eliza's  man  wuz  late, 

Now  he's  Heaven-bound  in  pieces  on  de  angel's  freight. 

Sis'  Eliza  weep  an'  wail  fo'  goin'  on  a  week, 
Mournin'  wid  her  grievin'  eyes,  a-startin'  in  to  pine. 
Preacheh  come   a-prowlin'   'roun',   comfortin'   de   meek, 
Laborin'  in  de  vineyard  wid  de  clingin'  vine. 


126  LILY 

Preacheh  stayed  fo'  supper  ev'y  now  an'  den, 

Smack  his  lips — "De   good   Lawd   He  said  "Feed  my 

lamb"— 

Chickens  kep'  a-dwindlin'  in  de  widder's  pen, 
Eliza  craved  religion  so  she  didn't  give  a  damn. 

The  mascot  goat  began  to  punctuate  her  mas 
ter's  song  with  an  occasional  detour  toward  little 
clumps  of  roadside  grass.  "Goat,  you  sho'  is  de 
digestinist  varmint  in  de  worl'.  Did  a  sugar 
mill  see  you,  oP  mill  say,  'Take  de  cane, — I'se 
marked  fatigue.'  Did  you  eat  trees  de  sawmill 
men  git  a  lifetime  furlough." 

"Blaa-a!"  Lily  agreed  as  well  as  she  could 
with  a  grass-cluttered  set  of  vocal  organs,  munch 
ing  in  time  with  the  Talkin'  Gin  chorus : 

Saint  Peter  say,  "You  looks  all  mussed." 
"I'se  been  dat  way  since  de  dynamite  bust." 

Eliza  set  a  bilin'  kittle  on  de  fire, 
Filled  it  up  wid  juniper  an'  sassafrass  mash, 
Aimed  to  give  a  ruckus  fo'  de  preacheh  an'  de  choir, 
Preacheh  say,  "Jes'  you  an'  me, — fo'git  dem  trash." 

Sis'  Eliza  started  ladlin'  out  de  homemade  gin, 
"Whuff!  Ol'  preacheh  smack  his  drippin's  lips  to  thank 

Sis'  Liz, 

Den  his  feet  dey  got  to  itchin',  "Dancin'  ain't  no  sin," — 
Crack  his  heels  togetheh  once  an'  up  he  riz. 


LILY  127 

"Goat,  halt!  At  ease.  Unwrap  dat  mil'tary 
bearin'  f'm  'round  yo'se'f.  At  res'  whilst  I  sees 
is  dese  pussonal  feet  still  'quipped  wid  shufflin' 
brains." 

In  the  dust  of  the  roadway,  while  Lily  and  an 
imaginary  audience  consisting  of  Sis'  Liz  and 
de  oP  preacheh  burned  with  envy,  the  Wildcat 
sat  down  and  removed  his  shoes.  Then  he  took 
his  feet  for  a  dog  walk.  "Dey  remembeh !"  The 
dancer  started  slow,  announcing  each  measure  to 
his  audience.  "De  Rabbit  Prowl  .  .  .  rabbit 
hears  de  houn's  bayin'  .  .  .  rabbit  climbs  de  tall 
timber  .  .  .  coon  on  de  lo'  limb  .  .  .  Bam! 
OP  coon  hits  de  groun'  .  .  .  rabbit  keeps 
a-climbin'  .  .  .  pole-cat  restin'  hisse'f  on  de  mid 
dle  limb  .  .  .  Ker-bam !  OP  pole-cat  splashes 
heavy  in  de  dismal  swamp  .  .  .  rabbit  keeps  a 
climbin'  .  .  .  Grizzle  bear  on  de  top  limb.  .  . 
Bam-lam-boom !  .  .  .  Grizzle  bear  squashes  all 
de  houn'  dawgs  when  he  hits  de  groun'  .  .  .  de 
Rabbit  Dive  .  .  .  kick  oP  grizzle  bear  in  de 
face, — fo'  time  lef'  and  fo'  time  right — " 

"Wham-lawdy !  How  come!"  The  dance 
was  abruptly  ended  on  the  third  kick  to  star 
board.  Heralded  by  a  grunt  of  pain  the  Wild 
cat  emerged  from  the  center  of  a  dust  cloud  which 
had  veiled  his  violent  exhibition,  hopping  on 


128  LILY 

one  foot  and  holding  the  other  in  both  hands. 
'Toot,  you  foun'  sumpthin'  you  didn't  lose." 
Sideways,  out  of  his  eyes,  the  foot-holder  squinted 
to  see  how  many  toes  were  missing.  He  found 
the  toe  detail  present  in  full  strength.  Gratified, 
he  put  on  his  shoes.  "Serves  me  right.  Folks 
whut  is  got  shoes  gin' ally  wears  Jem,  'less  dey  is 
'flicted  wid  de  brain  feebles.  .  .  .  Whut  de  man 
mean, — leavin'  a  oP  anvil  layin'  in  de  road4?" 
He  clawed  around  in  the  dust  which  had  been 
his  dancing  stage,  searching  for  the  anvil.  "Well, 
I  be  dog!  Lily,  look  heah.  Ain't  no  anvil, — 
nuthin'  but  a  oP  mule-shoe.  Sho'  had  de  mule 
kick, — might  knowed  dey  wuz  mule  grief  some 
place  in  dat  toe  mis'ry.  Mule  shoe,  howdy,  an' 
goodbye.  Fare  thee  well!"  He  cast  the  iron 
shoe  as  far  as  he  could,  over  into  a  clump  of 
brush.  Before  he  resumed  his  march  he  ad 
dressed  his  imaginary  audience:  "Preacheh,  you 
win  de  dance  contes'.  Horse-shoe  shows  where 
Lady  Luck  been, — mule-shoe  marks  de  devil's 
road.  Git  to  dancin',  preacheh,  befo'  you  feet 
gits  A.  W.  O.  L." 

Preacheh  got  to  dancin'  an'  he  went  hog  wild, 

Got  to  goin'  noble  an'  started  in  to  yell; 

"Sis'  Eliza  fill  de  dipper  f o'  yo'  angel  child ! 

I  craves  my  wine  an'  wimmen,  an'  dey  ain't  no  hell!" 


LILY  129 

Hell-bound, — on  de  primrose  road, — 
One-horse  sinner  wid  a  two-horse  load. 

Preacheh  was  a-dancin'  fo'-'leven-fo'ty-fo', 

"Watch  dis  foot-loose  demon  whirlin'  'roun  you,  Liza 

Liz !" 

Right  when  he  wuz  steamin*  come  a  knockin'  at  de  door, 
Preacheh  stopped  like  he  wuz  hit  wid  lightnin'  room- 

a-tiz. 

"Lily,  I  bet  dat  ol'  preacheh  felt  like  my  foot 
when  it  got  de  howdy-doo  to  de  mule-shoe  .  .  . 
see  kin  I  limp  some  .  .  .  ol'  Cap'n  Jack  see  me 
limpin'  he  say  'Wilecat,  quit  dat  limpin'  befo'  I 
kicks  you  loose  f'm  yo'  pussonal  'natomy  whut 
kaint  limp  'less  you  hiccough.' 

Sky-bound, — fo'  his  home  on  high, 
Sky-bound, — with  a  feather  in  each  han', 
Sky-bound, — jes'    beginnin'    to   fly, 
Sky-bound, — grazin   de  promis'  land. 

"Who  dat?"  Eliza  holler.     "Who  beatin'  on  dat  door?" 
A  dwindlin'  voice  come  soundin'  f'm  de  night, 
"Liza,  dis  yo'  husban'.     Ain't  gwine  to  leave  no  mo*. 
I  win  dat  wrasslin'  battle  wid  de  dynamite." 

Ol'  preacheh  started  leavin' — he  busted  through  de  wall, 
Whilst  Eliza  opened  up  de  cabin  door — 
A-lookin'  and  a-callin', — never  seed  no  one  at  all — 
Den  she  throwed  a  'niption  fit  across  de  floor. 


130  LILY 

Sky-bound, — hear   de    angels    sing, 
Sky-bound, — kaint   hear    anything. 

De  preacheh  still  a-gallopin'  de  sinful  road, 

Sis'  Eliza  she  repented  loose  a  load  of  sin, 

Said  she'd  a-backslid  mighty  light  if  she'd  a-knowed 

De  ruin  dat  wuz  brewin'  in  dat  talkin'  gin. 

"Goat,  dat's  all.  Dat  learns  you  never  to 
pester  wid  dynamite.  Gin  ain't  so  bad  'less  you 
gits  reckless  an'  tries  to  swim  upstream  in  Gin 
River.  Float  wid  de  current  but  look  out  fo? 
de  big  eddies  whut  drags  you  undeh.  .  .  .  Dog 
gone,  I  sho'  craves  to  git  wid  Cap'n  Jack,  'spe 
cially  now  dat  de  winter  weatheh  is  so  ravagin' 
in  de  land." 

By  the  time  night  had  fallen  the  craver  and 
his  mascot  goat  were  about  twelve  miles  nearer 
Captain  Jack  than  they  had  been  that  morn 
ing.  Lying  down  in  the  frosts  of  evening  and 
trying  to  sleep  didn't  make  any  gilt-spangled 
appeal  and  so  the  hungry  pair  continued  their 
march  throughout  the  night. 

At  dawn  the  Wildcat  sought  a  sun-swept 
gully  a  little  off  the  road'.  There,  protected 
from  the  chill  wind  he  curled  up  with  Lily  beside 
him  and  snored  himself  forty  miles  away  from 
mule-shoe  luck.  "Same  as  de  A.  E.  F.  'ceptin' 


LILY  131 

cooties  an'  rations.  Hot  dam,  Lily, — whah  at 
is  de  oP  mess  sergeant?  Whah  at  is  Lady  Luck? 
Git  to  sleep,  goat.  Say  yo'  prayers  dat  Lady 
Luck  don't  rush  past  us  does  she  come  dis  way." 


CHAPTER   XI 

NORTHBOUND  and  acutely  conscious 
of  an  empty  stomach  that  for  two  days 
had  been  as  useless  as  a  stakeholder  in 
a  crap  game,  the  Wildcat  welcomed  a  trio  of 
church  steeples  rising  against  the  horizon  before 
him.  "Hot  foot,  Lily!  Whah  dey's  chu'ches 
dey's  a  town  an'  whah  dey's  a  town  us  gits  a 
job.  Craves  me  a  job.  Kaint  eat  'less  us  works, 
— kaint  eat  steady.  Eatin'  ain't  nothin'  'less 
it's  de  steady  kind.  I  had  enough  temp'rary  now. 
an' -den  rations  in  de  A.  E.  F.  to  las'  me  till  ol' 
Gabriel  sputters  de  las'  'sembly  in  de  brass  hawn 
on  high.  .  .  .  Double-time  yo'se'f,  goat!  Lady 
Luck  likely  waitin'  whah  you  sees  dem  fac'try 
chimblys  again  de  sky,  behin'  dem  chu'ches.  Us 
is  luck  bound!  Ramble!" 

Near  the  edge  of  the  town,  almost  smelling 
the  gravy,  the  Wildcat  stepped  out  at  a  five- 
mile  pace.  Lily,  trotting  along  behind  him, 
heard  her  master  mask  his  appetite  in  a  thin  veil 
of  song: 

132 


LILY  133 

"Luck  bound, — on  mah  fiddlin'  feet, 
"Luck  bound, — an'  a-craving  to  eat, 
Luck  bound, — whah  de  rations  wait, 
I'se  luck  bound  at  a  gallopin*  gait." 

At  the  edge  of  town  the  singer  growled  an 
order  toward  his  mascot.  "Slack  up  yo'  gallop, 
Lily.  Slow  down  befo'  some  deppity  marshal 
thinks  us  is  runnin'  away  f'm  whah  dey  is  some 
body  dat  los'  something  whut  wuz  took." 

Rich  in  experience  the  Wildcat  passed  the 
churches  and  the  residence  district  of  the  little 
town  without  halting.  He  hesitated  for  half  a 
minute  before  a  little  restaurant  on  the  main 
street  and  then,  without  stopping,  resumed  his 
course.  "Dat  grub  smell  jes'  like  heaven! 
Drives  me  like  de  long  lash  leather  burnin'  mule 
hide.  Come  on  heah,  goat,  to  whah  de  work  is 
waitin' !  Kaint  buy  no  rations  wid  talk.  Fo' 
bits  do  mo'  talkin'  wid  de  res' rant  man  dan  all 
de  whut-you-wuz  words  in  de  world." 

He  plodded  down  the  streets  of  the  town  until 
the  substantial  buildings  had  given  place  to  the 
broken  residences  of  the  poorer  element  of  the 
community  and  presently  the  gate  of  a  stockade 
surrounding  a  sugar  refinery  confronted  him. 
He  addressed  the  watchman  at  the  gate.  "I'se 


134 

lookin'  fo'  a  job.  Whah  at  is  de  man  whut  hires 
de  hands?" 

The  watchman  discouraged  him.  "Ain't  hir- 
in'  no  hands." 

The  Wildcat  looked  hard  at  the  watchman  arid 
by  reason  of  a  similarity  of  complexions,  ven 
tured  some  more  language.  "Boy,  don't  tell  me 
no  ain'ts.  I'se  so  hungry  I'se  fish-deaf  when  de 
ain'ts  is  spoke.  I  ax  you,  whah  at  is  de  man?" 

The  watchman  conceded  a  point.  "You  finds 
him  in  de  li'l  shack  by  de  boilin'  mill.  Dat's  de 
office.  Walk  in  does  you  crave  to.  All  I  tells 
you  is  double  up  so  you  won't  land  so  heavy 
when  you  gits  thro  wed  out." 

The  Wildcat  walked  to  the  office  shack  and 
entered  it.  A  moment  later  he  faced  the  super 
intendent  of  the  sugar  mill.  "Cap'n  suh,  me 
an'  Lily  craves  a  job  o'  work  so  us  kin  eat." 
A  gentle  gesture  with  the  hand  that  held  his  hat 
indicated  the  mascot  goat. 

"Who  is  Lily?" 

"Dis  heah  goat.  Luck  mascot.  Whaheveh 
Lily  is  oP  Lady  Luck  gwine  come  prowlin'  soon 
o'  late." 

The  superintendent  was  no  more  superstitious 
than  the  average  man  who  dodges  ladders  and 
picks  up  pins  and  avoids  Friday  thirteens,  but 


LILY  135 

the  sugar  market  was  feeble  and  he  couldn't 
afford  to  take  a  chance  with  his  luck.  The  Wild 
cat  had  him  hooked.  "What  can  you  do^" 

"Cap'n  suh, — mos'  any  liftin'  jobs,  up  or  down, 
or  workin'  wid  a  shovel.  I'se  good  wid  animils 
an'  mules.  Mules  I  reg'lates.  I  rules  mules.  I 
knows  some  'bout  machinery, — shovel  in'  coal  an' 
on  an'  off  wid  wateh  valves.  Steam  valves  I 
ain't  learned.  Place  gits  cloudy  so  quick  when 
steam  busts  dat  a  boy  kaint  think  jes'  which." 

"Come  with  me.     Three  dollars  a  day." 

"Cap'n  suh,  you  means  I'se  hired*?" 

"You're  hired.     Come  on  here." 

"Hot  dam!  Come  'long,  Lily,  to  whah  Lady 
Luck  is  waitin' !  Foller  de  Cap'n  an'  tread  gentle 
befo'  I  knocks  you  nine  miles  f'm  pay-day." 

Following  the  guide  toward  the  meeting  point 
with  Lady  Luck  the  Wildcat  and  Lily  walked 
from  the  office  and  crossed  a  hundred  foot  open 
space  to  a  tall  wooden  building  which  looked 
old  and  tired,  and  which  housed  a  battery  of  six 
huge  molasses  storage  tanks.  Inside  the  build 
ing  he  became  conscious  of  the  humming  of  a 
myriad  idle  flies,  noting  that  an  equal  number 
were  silent  at  their  feasting.  He  mounted  a 
narrow  stairway  leading  to  a  platform  thirty 
feet  above  ground  level.  Here,  standing  before 


13$  LILY 

an  intricate  system  of  pipes  and  valves  and  bat 
ting  at  a  cloud  of  buzzing  flies,  he  listened  to 
orders. 

"These  six  valves  painted  red  are  the  molasses 
feed- valves  in  the  pipe  lines  that  fill  the  six 
wooden  tanks  below  us.  The  numbers  show  you 
which  is  which, — tanks  numbered  the  same  way 
on  those  boards  nailed  to  the  staves.  Number 
Four  is  feeding  now.  Takes  about  an  hour  to 
fill  a  tank.  When  the  molasses  gets  to  the  red 
danger-mark, — you  can  see  it  painted  there, — 
shut  off  the  feed-valve  and  fill  the  next  tank. 
By  the  time  Number  Six  is  filled  Number  One 
ought  to  be  empty.  That's  all.  You  know  how 
to  work  it?" 

"Cap'n,  yessuh!  Sho'  do!"  With  his  ap 
petite  dictating  the  text  of  his  reply  the  Wildcat 
would  have  taken  a  chance  on  operating  an  air 
plane  and  a  submarine  with  his  right  hand  while 
juggling  the  Theory  of  Relativity  with  his  left, 
if  success  had  meant  hoe  cake  and  ham  gravy. 
"Cap'n  suh, — you  say  dat  pourin'  out  stuff  is 
'lasses?" 

"That's  it."  The  superintendent  called  down 
to  a  man  standing  in  the  web  of  the  piping  sys 
tem  below.  "Stay  with  those  outlet  valves  now, 
Demmy.  New  boy  handling  the  overhead  feed 


LILY  137 

up  here."  He  turned  to  the  Wildcat  for  a  final 
word.  "Your  shift  is  twelve  hours  on, — ends 
at  midnight;  begins  at  noon.  Two  whistles." 

"Cap'n,  yessuh."  Just  then  the  working  shift 
might  have  been  as  continuous  as  human  sin  with 
out  having  much  effect  on  the  Wildcat's  im 
mediate  future.  What  he  wanted  most  at  that 
moment  was  to  be  left  alone  with  his  work,  for 
here  was  a  job  a  boy  could  eat.  "Bettxh  dan  a 
res' rant  job.  Nobody  kin  count  'lasses.  Neveh 
miss  a  few  'lasses  wid  so  many  on  hand.  .  .  . 
Stan'  back  f'm  de  edge,  Lily,  befo'  us  has  to 
strain  you  out  wid  de  res'  of  de  flies." 

Five  seconds  after  the  superintendent  disap 
peared  down  the  stairway  the  Wildcat  reached  a 
cupped  hand  under  the  surface  of  the  dark  liquid 
in  tank  Number  Three.  "Whuff !  Sho'  is  noble ! 
Bes'  long  sweetnin'  us  eveh  et !" 

Feed  me  now  while  I  still  can  chew 
Don't  pos'pone  it  till  it's  overdue. 

Boon  me  wid  flowers,  but  boon  me  while  I  still  kin  smell, 
Boon  me  wid  rations, — boon  me  while  I  still  kin  eat, 
Boon  me  wid  raiment, — don't  need  no  heavy  clothes  in 

hell, 
Boon  me  wid  likker, — but  boon  me  while  de  gin  tastes 

sweet. 


138  LILY 

After  ten  minutes  steady  dipping  he  summoned 
the  mascot.  "Goat,  come  heah  an'  git  yo'  drip- 
pin's  f'm  Lady  Luck's  skillet."  He  called  again, 
but  Lily  was  engaged  in  eating  eight  feet  of  mo 
lasses  soaked  waste  which  she  was  unwrapping 
from  around  a  leaking  valve  stem.  "Suit  yo'se'f. 
Eat  m' chine ry  does  you  crave  it.  As  foj  me, — 
de  long  sweetnin'  is  mah  pussonal  fail  in' ! 
Whuff!" 

With  the  edge  of  his  appetite  dulled  by  half 
a  gallon  of  warm  molasses  the  Wildcat  remem 
bered  the  rudiments  of  his  technical  obligation. 
He  walked  over  to  Number  Four  tank  and 
peered  down  into  it.  "Kaint  see  no  red  mark, 
— Lawd  Gawd,  mebbe  de  olj  red  paint  mark  is 
drownded!"  He  looked  again  at  the  level  of  the 
viscous  liquid  in  the  tank  and  cast  a  glance  side- 
wise  at  the  three  filled  tanks.  "Looks  de  same 
as  de  othehs.  Whut  dat  white  man  say  do, — 
shut  dis  off, — turn  dat  one  on, — fo'  down,  off. 
Five  down,  on.  Dat's  it!  Sho'  is!  Us  knows 
dis  on  an'  off  bizness  wid  de  pipes.  Jes'  like  a 
steamboat.  Huh !  Us  knows  all  about  dis  biz- 
ness, — all  an'  den  some!" 

Serene  for  the  moment  in  the  belief  that  there 
was  mighty  little  left  for  him  to  learn  about  the 
tank  filling  profession  the  Wildcat  indulged  in  a 


LILY  139 

little  vocal  visiting.  He  called  down  into  the 
darkness.  "Demmy,  you  dab?" 

"Whah  you  spec'  I  is.     Who  is  you,  topside  ?" 

"I'se  de  handler  whut  runs  dese  mix-up  pipe 
things  dat — " 

"Knows  whut  you  is.     I'se  axin'  who  is  you*?'1 

"Folks  call  me  Wildcat  .  .  .  whut  dat 
'Demmy'  name  mean,  Demmy-john  oj  Demmy- 
crat?  Dat  yo'  police  name  o'  yo'  votin'  name4?" 

"Whut  I  goes  by.  Used  to  run  dinin'  car  till 
I  strained  mahse'f.  .Folks  called  me  Demmy 
Tass  'count  I  neveh  got  mah  full  growth." 

"Whut  you  mean  strained  yo'se'f  *?" 

"Eatin'  so  heavy.  Had  to  quit  an'  git  'way 
f  m  so  close  to  de  grub." 

"You  ain't  fur  f'm  grub  now.  Dis  long 
sweetnin's  de  bes'  rations  I'se  et  fo'  many  a 
day." 

"Wilecat,  don't  eat  dat  stuff!  Dem  'lasses  is 
half  sour  now  an'  does  dey  hold  'em  one  mo' 
night  dey  foments  so  much  de  flies  gits  staggerin' 
drunk  f'm  de  smell  alone.  Leave  dat  long 
sweetnin'  go  'less  you  craves  de  stummick 
mis'ry." 

"Demmy,  dey's  two  kinds, — de  full  mis'ry  an' 
de  vacant.  Rich  folks  has  de  full  stummick 
mis'ry  an'  de  poor  has  de  otheh  kind.  How 


HO  LILY 

come  de  flies  git  so  drunk?  Is  dis  stuff  got 
somethin'  in  it  whut  keeps  it  f'm  gittin'  lone 
some  ?" 

"Sho'  has  when  she  gits  oP  an  vig'rous.  Dey 
makes  rum  f  m  'lasses, — folks  whut  kin  wait  dat 
long.  Me, — I  drinks  mah  vigor  whilst  it's  still 
mah  size.  Drink  dis  'lasses  afteh  it  fo'ments 
long  'miff  an'  de  fust  thing  you  heah's  de  judge 
sayin'  'Six  months  an'  leave  de  hardware  on 
him.'  " 

"No  judge  ain't  said  nuthin'  to  me  fo'  de 
longes'  time, — I  don't  crave  to  hear  none.  Ain't 
dey  a  place  in  dis  town  whah  a  boy  kin  git 
some  tame  likker?" 

"Sev'al.  Dey  is  in  all  towns.  Thought 
you  wuz  bust, — talkin'  dat  hungry  talk  all  de 


time." 


"I  is.     Aims  to  build  up  though.     Craves  mos' 
to  git  on  my  way  to  Memphis  whah  oP  Cap'n 
Jack  is  waitin'  but  a  ra'r  of  likker  now  an'  then 
might  help  me  beah  my  cross." 
^  "Who  dis  Cap'n  Jack?" 

"He's  mah  white  folks.  You  mus'  a-knowed 
'bout  him.  Won  de  wah  in  de  A.  E.  F.  agin'  dem 
German  boys." 

"Win  it  single-handed?" 

"Single-handed  'ceptin'  us  shock  troops  in  de 


LILY  141 

Fust  Service  Battalion  an'  dem  Eighteenth 
Engineer  boys  an5  Lootenant  Hudson." 

"Heard  'bout  you.  You  is  de  troops  whut 
run  dem  Germans  to  death, — leadin'  'em.  You 
sho'  covered  de  groun'  when  you  got  goin'.'J 

"Demmy,  you  talks  like  dem  flyin'  squab  boys 
tellin'  de  quart'masteh  how  much  groceries  a  hero 
needs.  But  I  fo'gits  anj  fo'gives.  Wah  is  done 
now,  an'  us  won  it.  Dat's  all." 

"Whut  you  mean,  won  it*?" 

"Still  got  it,  ain't  we?  No  likker,  no  work, 
no  money,  no  boonus,  no  rations,  an'  only  half 
clo'es  enough  to  hoi'  de  buttons.  Dat's  hell, 
ain't  it?  So  is  wah.  If  anybody  win  it  us 
did.  Hope  us  lose  it  some  day." 

"Good  times  comin'." 

"Goin',  you  means.  Demmy,  you  is  twisted 
an'  headed  backwa'ds.  I'se  lookin'  at  to-day, — 


an'  tomorr'.' 


"Wilecat,  dem  'lasses  you  et  is  soured  you. 
Yo'  nach'ral  sweetness  is  fo'mented.  Betteh  git 
on  dat  Numbeh  Six  tank, — only  takes  a  hour  to 
fill  each  tank.  Wait  'till  us  quits  to-night  an* 
I  leads  you  to  a  place  whah  you  gits  real  grub 
an'  mebbe  a  ra'r  of  real  likker." 

"Demmy,  you  sounds  like  heaven.  Gam'lin* 
too?" 


142  LILY 

"Some, — in  case  you  is  'flicted  wid  de  bone 
cravinV 

"Whut  you  think  I  means, — dis  heah  boy -size 
gam' 1  in  wid  spinnin'  tops  whut  says  grab  o'  do 
nate4?  Huh!  All  right  fo'  folks  whut  kaint 
read  but  when  us  trails  Lady  Luck  us  craves 
action.  Don't  want  no  tilly  winks  pesterin'  me. 
Don't  want  nothin'  spinnin'  'roun'  whilst  I  drops 
dead  wid  anxious  heart  disease.  Bam!  Read 
an'  repeat.  Fire  an'  fall  back.  Dat's  me." 

"Wilecat,  dem  words  goes  double!  Me  anj 
you  each.  De  bones  speaks  de  verdick  long  be- 
fo'  dem  tops  quits  spinnin'  an'  stutterin'  like  dese 
pledge-signin'  boys  sayin'  yes  to  a  gin  ruckus  in 
vite.  Boy,  to-night  I  leads  you  f'm  de  straight 
an'  narrow  to  de  wide  an'  pleasant." 

"You  soun's  noble.  Preacheh  say  de  way  of 
de  progressor  is  hard  surfaced, — us  mebbe  makes 
some  speed  when  us  gits  off  dis  long  grief  lane." 

The  Wildcat  turned  to  his  work.  He  fumbled 
around  with  the  feed  valve  to  Number  Six  tank 
and  when  the  stream  of  heavy  liquid  was  pitching 
downward  into  the  black  depths  of  the  tank  he 
relaxed  his  attention  to  duty  long  enough  to  eat 
another  quart  of  slightly  fermented  molasses. 

The  six  tanks  were  connected  at  the  level  of 
the  red  danger  marks  by  eight-inch  overflow  pipes 


LILY  143 

which  limited  the  liquid  level  as  long  as  any  one 
of  the  tanks  was  not  filled.  On  a  narrow  plank 
running  from  one  of  these  short  connecting  pipes 
to  the  edge  of  the  operating  platform  the  Wildcat 
sat  for  half  an  hour,  dipping  down  and  hoisting  his 
dripping  cargo  to  his  wide  mouth.  After  a  while, 
temporarily  gorged  to  flood  stage,  he  slacked  up. 
In  two  minutes  his  head  was  nodding  and  he  was 
asleep.  Twice  he  rolled  dangerously  near  the 
point  beyond  which  recovery  of  his  equilibrium 
was  impossible  and  then  the  sub-conscious  mir 
acles  ceased  and  in  his  sleep  he  stretched  full 
length  along  the  narrow  plank  that  bridged  a 
gulf  almost  entirely  surrounded  by  luke-warm 
molasses. 

Meanwhile,  a  little  apart  from  the  sleeping 
valve-tender,  Lily  and  Number  Six  tank  were 
filling  up  the  best  they  knew  how  without  the 
Wildcat's  pussonal  supervision. 


CHAPTER   XII 


AT  sundown,  while  the  Wildcat  slept, 
Demmy  ducked  out  of  the  tank  house 
and  headed  for  a  loose  board  in  the 
stockade  fence.  Stealth  marked  his  movements. 
He  slid  through  the  narrow  opening  in  the  fence 
and  then,  like  an  elusive  black  shadow,  he  prowled 
d^wn  along  an  eroded  gully  which  led  to  the 
back  door  of  a  dilapidated  house  whose  com 
panion  structures  lifted  their  broken  fronts  along 
the  staggering  boundary  of  a  crooked  street.  At 
a  door  opening  into  the  basement  of  the  house 
three  steps  below  ground  line,  he  knocked  the 
two-one-four  signal  which  announced  the  arrival 
of  one  to  whom  the  ritual  of  admission  was  old 
stuff. 

A  moment  later  the  blue  calico  curtain  behind 
a  small  glass  panel  was  drawn  to  one  side.  "It's 
Demmy,"  the  visitor  whispered.  "Leave  me  in." 

The  dpor  opened  and  the  sawed-off  brunet 
dived  into  the  darkness  of  the  basement.  He 

144 


LILY  145 

walked  ten  feet  in  the  darkness  and  then  two 
heavy  curtains  in  front  of  him  opened  upon  a 
dimly  lighted  room  twenty  feet  square.  The  air 
of  the  room  was  soggy  with  the  gases  trailing 
from  a  score  of  semi-fireproof  cigars  and  under 
this  odor  of  burning  vegetation  was  the  sour 
scent  of  alcohol  and  the  acrid  tang  common  to 
packed  and  perspiring  humanity. 

The  newcomer  twisted  his  way  between  three 
groups  of  players  seated  around  card  tables  and 
found  the  man  he  sought,  back  of  a  semi-circular 
green  table.  On  the  felt-covered  top  a  pair  of 
active  dice  galloped  around  with  the  latest  bul 
letins  from  Lady  Luck's  headquarters. 

Demmy  waited  until  the  bank  collected  on  a 
delayed  seven  and  then  spoke  to  the  banker. 
"Sledge,  come  wid  me  to  de  li'l  room  a  minit. 
Us  has  bizness." 

The  banker  was  quick  to  obey  the  summons. 
He  turned  the  game  over  to  a  Friday-hand  and 
followed  Demmy  into  a  smaller  room  opening 
from  the  main  pasture  of  chance.  "Whut  you 
want?" 

"They's  a  new  boy  on  de  top  valves."  Demmy 
hesitated  long  enough  for  this  news  to  hit  the 
target.  "Looks  like  a  quick-learnin'  boy,  Sledge. 
M'ebbe  I  betteh  bring  him  oveh  heah  to-night  an' 


146  LILY 

git  him  gentle  an'  wise  befo'  he  'vestigates  'roun* 
an*  finds  dat  inch  pipe  whut  runs  f'm  de  'lassej 
tanks  to  yo5  'stillery  room  downstairs.  Whut 
you  think  T 

"You  is  right,  Demmy.  Betteh  bring  him  an' 
show  him  de  sights, — bring  'em  befo'  dey  comes 
prowlin'  is  my  motto.  Whut  kind  is  dis  boy*" 

"Memphis  nigger.  Name  Wildcat.  Fit  in 
de  war,  but  'ceptin'  fo'  dat  he  seems  bright." 

"Fetch  him  heah  at  nine  o'clock." 

"Us  comes  at  nine.  An'  Sledge, — mebbe  you 
betteh  have  some  grub  an'  a  ra'r  of  de  home 
made  hootch  waitin'  to  say  howdy-doo.  Boy 
ain't  et  lately  an'  he  gits  fren'ly  when  de  rations 
is  donated." 

"Rations  is  comin'  up.  An'  all  de  likker  he 
kin  handle."  The  moonshining  host  stripped  a 
banknote  from  his  roll.  "Heah,  Demmy, — lend 
him  dis  five  dollah  bill  so  he  kin  take  a  bite  at  de 
relief  c'mittee  wid  de  square  teeth.  Dat's  all 
right, — dem  fust-aid  cubes  pays  me  back.  Likely 
be  a  big  game  to-night.  Big  gang  comin', — 
'nitiation  night  fo'  de  colored  Damons  an'  dey 
gin' ally  gits  heah  at  ten  o'clock  fo'  de  final  cer'- 
monies.  See  you  an'  dis  Wilecat  boy  at  nine 
o'clock.  Sez  goodnight  'till  dat  time." 

Demmy  slid  out  into  the  big  room  and  from 


LILY  147 

there  into  the  night  which  veiled  his  journey 
to  the  stockade  fence.  He  wriggled  through  the 
fence  via  the  loose  board  route  and  walked  si 
lently  to  his  post  of  duty.  He  entered  the  tank- 
house  in  which  three  incandescents  had  bloomed 
during  his  absence. 

Then  he  became  aware  of  a  series  of  strange 
noises  originating  above  him. 

The  disturbance  sounded  to  his  quickened  ears 
like  a  vocal  omelet  of  groans  and  bleats  and 
gurgles.  He  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  as 
quickly  as  his  short  legs  would  carry  him  he 
mounted  the  narrow  stairway  and  explored  the 
length  of  the  operating  platform  that  ranged  the 
open  molasses  tanks. 

On  the  plank  leading  from  the  platform  to 
the  connecting  pipe  between  the  third  and  fourth 
tanks  he  saw  the  sleeping  Wildcat,  stretched  at 
full  length  and  undulating  to  an  accompaniment 
of  incoherent  mumbling.  The  Wildcat's  mouth 
was  open  and  as  near  as  Demmy  could  make  out 
the  mumbler  was  trying  to  gurgle  the  chorus  from 
the  Madhouse  Banquet  song. 

A  moment  later  the  muttering  victim  of  luke 
warm  molasses  was  half  awake  and  all  ashore^ 
sitting  up  on  the  platform  near  the  control  valves, 

Demmy  relaxed  his  grip  on  his  companion. 


148  LILY 

"Wake  up,  Wilecat !  Heah  us  is.  Wake  up, — 
you  been  ridin'  a  nightmare." 

"How  come!     Whah  at  is  us?' 

"Heah  you  is.  Dis  is  Demmy  wid  you. 
You'se  been  dream  in  VJ 

"Wuz  dat  dreamin'  .  .  .  dream  mah  mascot 
goat  .  .  .  was  swimmin'  .  .  .  in  de  'lasses  riveh 
.  .  .  an'  went  oveh  de  falls  an'  .  .  .what  dat!" 

Sharply  into  the  steady  gurgling  of  the  flow 
ing  molasses  came  Lily's  voice.  A  single  bleat, 
eloquent  with  distress,  fell  on  the  listener's  ears. 

"Dat's  Lily!  Callin'  me!  Dat  dream  wuz 
true, — leggo,  Demmy." 

A  moment  later  the  searching  pair  found  the 
source  of  the  S.  O.  S.  in  Tank  Six.  Riding  a 
submerged  soap-box  which  she  had  carried  over 
the  edge  of  the  tank  with  her  in  her  fall,  Lily 
drifted  with  the  tide,  submerged  to  the  gills 
in  the  heavy  flood  of  sweet  temptation. 

"Blaa-a!" 

Seeing  the  Wildcat's  dim  outline  the  drifting 
mascot  voiced  an  overwhelming  vote  against  bulk 
molasses. 

"I'se  comin'!  Hang  on,  goat!  Us  gits  you 
de  nex'  time  roun' !" 

A  moment  later  the  drifter  came  within  reach. 
The  Wildcat  clutched  at  Lily's  neck,  lifted, 


LILY  149 

grabbed  the  mascot's  forelegs  and  hauled  the  drip 
ping  truant  upward  to  the  security  of  the  plat 
form.  "Stan5  still.  Do  yo'  drippin'  in  one 
place,  goat,  else  us  pays  back  all  de  woe  you'se 
'posited  in  de  hell  bank  fo'  de  las'  ten  years!" 

"Blaa-a!  Heeet!"  Lily  apologized.  Then 
she  sneezed  and  shook  herself,  one  leg  at  a  time, 
losing  weight,  meanwhile,  like  a  squeezed  sponge. 

She  tried  to  mask  her  chagrin  in  a  violent  wag 
ging  of  head  and  tail. 

The  Wildcat  interpreted  these  contortions  as 
rank  anarchy.  "Shut  up  dem  sass  words,  goat! 
Come  to  ten-shun  an'  stick  dere!  Drip  small 
befo'  I  knocks  you  silo  high  an'  swamp  wide!" 

Demmy,  having  retrieved  the  drifting  soap 
box,  interrupted  the  chastening.  "Lead  dat 
prong-head  fly-bait  down  de  stairs  till  us  kin 
run  de  wateh  hose  on  him."  He  added  some  pro 
fessional  advice.  "Betteh  shut  off  Numbeh  Six 
an'  start  fillin'  Numbeh  One  again." 

The  Wildcat  spoke  a  sharp  command  to  the 
dripping  mascot.  "Ten-shun!  As  you  is! 
Let  de  'lasses  dribble  till  us  gits  back!"  He 
walked  to  the  valve  rack  and  altered  the  flow  of 
the  supply  stream  as  Demmy  had  advised. 
Then,  followed  by  his  four-legged  fly-lure  he 
marched  downstairs  to  where  Demmy  had  the 


150  LILY 

water  ready  and  waiting  for  the  bath  business. 

"Stan'  still,  goat,  'till  us  baptizes  you  loose 
f 'm  dat  sweet  raiment.  You  sho'  is  de  dis-reptile 
lookinist  varmint  I  eveh  seed.  Turn  'roun', 
drippin'  fool,  whilst  us  gives  you  a  mussage,  an* 
a  nanny-cure  wid  dis  gunny  sack." 

A  little  before  nine  o'clock  the  beauty  treat 
ment  was  completed  except  for  a  few  areas  of 
matted  goat  hair  in  whose  environment  still  oozed 
enough  molasses  to  create  a  weather-proof  coat. 
The  discouraged  Demmy  called  a  halt.  "Goats 
is  nach'ral  born  'cumlators  when  it  comes  to 
'lasses.  Us  an'  de  flies  neveh  kin  git  dis  mascot 
unwropped  f'm  dem  'lasses.  Got  to  grow  out 
an'  wear  off.  Dat  takes  time.  Leave  him  be, 
Wilecat.  Us  is  due  now  fo'  a  visit  to  a  house 
down  de  gully.  Dey's  'sprisin'  ruckus  waitin' 
fo'  us." 

Demmy  was  a  better  prophet  than  he  knew. 

The  Wildcat  gave  Lily  some  orders.  "At 
case!  Walk  yo'  post  whilst  us  sees  is  de 
m'chinery  runnin'  right."  He  addressed  Demmy. 
"How  long  will  us  be  gone  away,  Demmy  *?" 

"Midnight,  mebbe.  Us  comes  back  ev'y  hour 
an'  ranges  de  valves.  Got  to  git  back  in  time  to 
quit  at  midnight." 

The   Wildcat   went   above   to   the  operating 


LILY  151 

platform  and  when  he  returned  Demmy  handed 
him  the  five-dollar  bill  which  the  moonshining 
king  of  the  gambling  joint  had  provided  for  the 
newman.  "Heah's  a  stake  fo'  you,  Wilecat,  if 
you  craves  to  take  a  ra'r  at  de  cube  croquet  in 
de  place  whah  us  is  gwine*?" 

"Five  dollahs!  Demmy,  how  come!  Boy, 
dat  sho'  is  de  right  han'  of  f  ren'ship.  Hot  dam ! 
Somethin'  tells  me  dat's  a  big  five.  I'se  had 
money  an'  I'se  lost  it  when  de  gallopers  got 
backslid  but  'less  dis  bunch  is  lyin'  dis  is  my 
night.  Us  reaps!  Reaps  big, — an'  half  whut 
I  gits  is  yo'  reward  fo'  ketchin'  dis  five-spot." 

Demmy,  wise  to  the  technical  perfection  of 
Sledge's  establishment,  smiled  a  twisted  and 
skeptical  smile  at  the  Wildcat's  enthusiastic  as 
surance.  "Spec'  us  buys  a  house  an'  lot  befo' 
you  gits  done  buildin'  up  f'm  dat  five  dollah 
start,  Wilecat.  Hope  so, — but  mebbe  not. 
Bring  dat  goat  an'  le's  go." 

He  led  the  way  through  the  shadows  to  the 
loose  board  in  the  stockade  fence  and  a  moment 
later  the  trio  were  marching  down  the  channel 
of  the  gully  which  led  to  the  back-door  of  the 
theatre  of  action.  The  two-one-four  knock 
sounded  on  the  door.  Five  seconds  later  the 
door  opened,  narrowly,  and  then  the  Wildcat 


152  LILY 

was  being  introduced  to  the  proprietor  of  the 
place.  Before  the  ceremony  had  been  completed 
a  plate  of  sandwiches  appeared  from  some  source 
and  into  the  Wildcat's  free  hand  was  thrust  a 
goblet  filled  with  rum  which  had  been  made  in 
the  sub-cellar  of  the  Sledge  establishment.  "Cir 
culate  'rounV  Sledge  invited.  "Us  hopes  you  an* 
Demmy  enjoys  yo'se'f  an7  makes  de  place  yo' 
tem'prary  stampin'  groun,"  the  host  concluded. 

"Sledge,  shoj  will!  -Heah's  howdy  .  .  . 
Whuff!  Noble  likker.  Noble  rations."  Half 
a  sandwich  disappeared  into  the  Wildcat's  mouth 
and  further  talk  was  abandoned.  "Don't  aim  to 
let  no  howdy-doo  gabblin'  stop  me  an'  dis  grub 
gittin'  'quainted.  Col'  pork  an'  good  soggy 
bread!  Gran'  likker!  Lady  Luck,  keep  yo' 
heaven!" 

During  the  next  five  minutes  all  the  sandr 
wiches  and  two  more  goblets  of  rum  were  added 
to  the  Wildcat's  cargo.  He  molded  his  mouth 
back  into  place  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 
"Demmy,  dis  a  gran'  place  to  be.  Dat  Sledge 
man  seems  real  fren'ly." 

"Sho'  is,"  Demmy  agreed.  "You  crave  some 
mo'  likker  an'  grub,  Wilecat*?  You  kin  git  all 
you  wants." 

"Demmy,  I  sez  yes,  but  at  de  present  rmnnit 


LILY  153 

dis  pussonal  stummick  I'se  'quipped  wid  sez  no 
right  to  mah  face.'1 

"Leave  it  rest.  De  deep  dish  banquit  com 
mences  in  half  hour  anyway, — begins  right  afteh 
de  Unifawm  Guards  gits  heah." 

"How  come,  guards?" 

"Sons  o'  Damon.  Lodge  boys.  Dis  is  de 
'nitiation  night  an'  dey  give  de  Social  Degree 
heah  at  Sledge's  place.  Gran'  rally.  You  meets 
de  real  folks.  Dey's  seven  can'dates  whut  gits 
de  'Steemed  Yaller  Sash  to-night.  .  .  .  Lily! 
Whut  dat  goat  eatin' !" 

The  mascot,  having  finished  the  bread-crusts 
from  the  last  four  sandwiches  which  the  Wild 
cat  had  eaten,  had  cast  her  eyes  around  in  search 
of  casual  amusement  until,  at  the  level  of  her 
nose,  crimped  between  a  card-player's  leg  and  the 
chair  seat,  she  had  discovered  two  idle  bits  of 
pasteboard.  When  Demmy  saw  her  the  final 
fragments  of  the  second  ace  were  being  munched 
into  pulp. 

Demmy  handed  out  some  low-pitched  advice. 
"Wilecat,  'strain  dat  goat.  Does  he  eat  ev' 
helpin'  card  he  sees  he  is  likely  git  into  bad 
trouble.  Some  man  need  an  extry  ace  an'  find 
out  dat  goat  et  it  dey  might  be  blades  wavin' 
befo'  you  'splained  it." 


154  L I L  Y 

"Lily,  rally  'way  back !  Goat,  one  moj  stumble 
on  dis  sin  road  you  is  travellin'  an1  you  falls 
hard.  Whut  you  mean,  s'questerin'  dat  card! 
Stan'  heah  befo'  us  knocks  you  loose  ¥ m  de  rest 
oj  dem  'lasses." 

To  his  guide  the  Wildcat  made  apologies  for 
his  mascot's  conduct.  "Lily  ain't  learned  no 
betteh, — started  wid  a  ahmy  trainin'  an'  neveh 
had  a  chance  to  repent  an'  sin  no  mo'." 

"Dat's  all  right,  Wilecat, — only  you  betteh 
keep  de  eagle  eye  on  dat  animil  befo'  he  eats  up 
a  card  some  man  needs  real  bad  .  .  .  'muse  yo'- 
se'f  'till  I  gits  back.  Got  to  see  is  de  ol'  'lasses 
valves  doin'  all  right.  I  'tends  de  top  side  fo' 
you  whilst  I'se  gone.  Stay  heah  an'  do  yo'se'f 
proud." 

"Sho'  will.  Lily,  come  wid  me."  He  edged 
toward  the  crap  table  behind  which  Sledge  was 
banking  the  house  bets.  At  the  table  he  greeted 
the  fringe  of  ivory  hunters.  "Men,  howdy." 
He  fished  for  his  five-dollar  bill.  Finding  it  he 
broke  out  with  an  acute  attack  of  spotted  fever. 
Impatient,  he  waited  until  the  orphan  cubes 
yearned  for  a  step-father.  "Pass  us  dem  limpin' 
leopards  'till  dey  learns  who  is  de  spot-changin' 
lion  tamer.  Major  babies,  meet  yo'  gin'ral. 
Beef  bones,  de  butcher  is  whettiri'  de  knife. 


LILYi  155 

Sledge,  I'se  got  five  dollahs  an'  de  hook  feels  de 
bait.  Shoots  de  five!" 

"Wilecat,  you  soun's  ol'  time.  You  is  faded 
an'  I  hopes  you  win.  Unravel  yo'  luck."  The 
banker,  needing  the  Wildcat's  favor  in  the  dis 
tillery  department,  meant  what  he  said.  "Roll 
'em!" 

"Whuff!  An'  I  reads, — five-dooce!  Jitney 
an'  twins.  Lets  it  ride.  Shoots  de  Ten-o-see. 
I'se  a  five  passin'  fool  an'  de  money  clock  sez 
one.  .  .  .  Funeral  bones,  slow  but  sure!  An' 
howdy-doo  six-ace.  Half  a  jury  an'  de  ol'  judge. 
.  .  .  Sledge,  dat's  two  an'  dey's  three  mo'  passes 
nes'lin'  in  mah  han'.  Shoots  de  twenty.  Fade 
me  an'  weigh  less." 

"Bank  fades  you.     Pull  de  trigger." 

"Bam!  An'  I  sees, — 'leven  f'm  heaven! 
Short  an'  painless,  like  a  wooden  laig.  Dat's 
forty  an'  I  lets  it  sleep.  Shoots  de  forty,  wid 
two  passes  hatchin'  de  money  eggs." 

The  smile  was  fixed  on  the  banker's  face  but 
his  reply  assumed  the  brevity  from  which  the 
honey  of  courtesy  had  ceased  to  drip.  "Roll 


'em." 


To  his  aid  the  Wildcat  summoned  the  rudi- 

iments  of  an  education  received  at  the  hands  of 

an  uncle  whose  technical  perfection  with  twin 


156  LILY 

dice  had  finally  resulted  in  a  meeting  of  the 
creditors  where  the  expert's  remains  were  viewed 
and  cursed  by  one  and  all  after  being  marked 
"Perishable.  Rush.  Use  no  Hooks." 

"Dixie  dice,  drip  yo'  money  dew.  Green  hay, 
de  harves'  man  is  got  you.  Wham!  ...  an* 
Li'l  Joe  leads  de  quartet.  Hot  dam !  Joe,  you 
'members  who  fed  you.  Re-turn  back  on  fo' 
wheels.  Whuff!  Dat's  nine  ...  an'  eight. 
Dice,  git  small.  I  reads  five  .  .  .  an'  dey  sez  six 
...  an'  ten.  Craves  double  twins.  Lady  Luck, 
whah  at  is  you  ...  an'  I  reads  dooce  an'  dooce ! 
Lady  Luck  sho'  got  ears.  Dat's  eighty  on  de 
table  an'  I  shoots  it  all.  Fade  eighty  an'  lock 
de  safe !  Shoots  eighty  dollahs." 

Nobody  ever  made  five  passes  with  the  house 
dice.  "Roll  'em!"  Sledge  sensed  a  profitable 
conclusion  to  the  Wildcat's  run  of  luck.  "Roll 
'em,  an'  us  ships  de  fragments  to  yo'  next  o' 
kin." 

"Baby  money,  nutrify  an'  grow  big.  Ice  dice, 
melt  an'  shower  down.  Wham!  Read  de  top 
sides  an'  you  reads  .  .  .  six-ace!  Dat's  five 
passes.  Drags  down.  Shoots  a  hund'ed.  Fade 
me,  is  you — " 

"Heah's    de    Damons,"    Sledge    interrupted. 


LILY  157 

"Pos'pone  dis  a  minnit,  Wilecat."  The  banker 
was  glad  of  the  opportune  alibi.  He  circulated 
around  as  long  as  he  could,  hoping  to  sidetrack 
the  Wildcat,  but  when  he  returned  to  the  crap 
table  he  noted  with  deep  disgust  that  the  victim 
in  the  recent  session  had  held  his  place. 

Submerged  in  the  crowd,  Sledge  saw  Demmy, 
who  had  returned  from  his  momentary  attention 
to  the  valves  in  the  molasses  tank-house.  He 
summoned  the  sawed-off  individual  to  the  little 
room.  "Demmy,  who  is  dis  Wilecat  boy?"  he 
whispered  his  question. 

"Sledge,  ask  me!  Neveh  seed  dat  boy  befo' 
noon  to-day.  Been  watchin'  him  ramble.  Right 
agile  wid  de  clickers." 

"You  neveh  seed  him  befo'  noon  .  .  . 
Boy,  'less  he  changes  you  ain't  gwine  see  him  much 
afteh  midnight.  Bizness  is  business  an'  fren's 
is  fren's,  Demmy,  but  de  way  he's  travellin'  I 
betteh  give  him  de  place  an'  git  me  a  pay-day 
job.  You  brung  him  heah, — betteh  git  him  out. 
All  de  'lasses  whut  runs  into  de  'stillery  pipe 
down  stairs  don't  mean  nothin'  'longside  de  way 
he's  robbin'  de  safe  wid  whut  he  calls  luck. 
Luck!  Demmy,  de  way  dat  six-ace  come  wid 
dem  taper  dice  shows  me  jes'  one  thing  an'  dat's 


158  LILY 

a  nigger's  neck  lonesome  fo'  a  wire-edge  blood 
hook.  Git  him  out  soon  as  you  kin,  else  I  sets 
de  iron  swingin'  twins  on  his  track." 

"Sledge,  I  gits  him  out.  Don't  start  no  blood- 
ruckus  whilst  de  Damons  is  all  rallied  'roun', — • 
kaint  tell  'bout  dem  lodge  fools.  Dat  Wilecat 
might  make  some  lodge  sign  an'  git  de  whole 
lodge  helpin'  him  spread  mis'ry  an'  distress,  I 
gits  him  out  quiet, — oozes  him  out  befo'  he  knowg 
whah  at  he  is." 

"Git  oozin' !" 

"I  is," 


Followed  by  Sledge,  Demmy  slipped  back:  into 
the  big  room.  He  edged  his  way  as  quickly  as 
he  could  to  the  Wildcat's  side.  "Boy,"  he  whis 
pered,  "lissen  to  me.  Betteh  git  back  to  de 
job.  OP  night-rounder  come  an'  find  you  mis- 
sin'  you  ain't  got  no  mo'  job  dan  a  fish  kia 
sing." 

"Don't  craves  no  job,  Demmy.  Don't  need  no 
job  whilst  Lady  Luck  does  de  work.  Don't 
pester  wid  me  now, — I  got  three  things  'cumul 
ated  dat's  been  a  long  time  comin' — luck,  money 
an'  de  clickers."  He  faced  the  audience  and 


LILY  159 

voiced  his  challenge.  "Gents  an'  Damons,  rally 
whilst  de  Wilecat  treads  his  prowl !" 

He  turned  to  the  crap  table.  "Bank  man, 
shoots  a  hund'ed." 

From  his  seat  at  the  banking  center  Sledge 
cast  an  acid  glance  at  Demmy.  Then,  reluc 
tantly  yielding  to  the  obligations  imposed  by  his 
official  rank,  he  covered  the  Wildcat's  stake. 

"Shoot!" 

"De  second  session  an'  de  gallopers  is  had  a 
recess.  Dice,  wake  up  an'  git  in  de  collah. 
Bugle  babies,  sound  de  pay-call.  Wham!  .  .  . 
an'  de  lodge  folks  sees — seven !  De  cash  quartet 
wid  Faith,  Hope  an'  Charity.  I  lets  it  stay  seed 
'till  de  big  money  sprouts.  Sledge,  shoots  two 
hund'ed.  Lodge  folks,  watch  de  second  de 
gree!" 

His  invitation  was  superfluous  for  by  that  time 
the  crap  table  had  become  the  center  of  interest. 
Sons  of  Damon,  straining  in  store  clothes  and  the 
yaller  sashes  of  their  Order,  with  one  accord  bent 
their  plumed  head-gear  in  the  direction  of  the 
big  money  game.  Above  open  mouths,  in  the 
half-light  of  the  room,  white  eye-balls  rolled  in 
weaving  platoons.  "Dat  boy  gone  hog  wile! 

.  .  Bet  ol'  Sledge  quit  befo'  long.^.  .  .  Look 
at  dat  Sledge  man  sweat !" 


160  LILY 

"Shoots  two  hund'ed!  Shoots  de  scenery, — 
'less  de  bank  is  feeble." 

"Bank's  all  right.     Shoot." 

The  Wildcat's  hand  gyrated  about  his  head  and 
returned  to  the  level  of  the  table.  Hardly  touch 
ing  the  green  cloth  the  twin  cubes'  leaped  to 
ward  the  fenced  edge  and  bounced  half-way  back, 
spinning  with  that  certificate  of  virtue  without 
which  no  crap-shooter  in  a  house  game  would 
long  retain  his  health  and  strength.  "Wham! 
I  reads  'em  rollin',  an'  when  dey  rests  dey  tells 
de  worl'  .  .  .  Jury  wid  de  fo'man  A.  W.  O.  L. ! 
Dat's  'leven!  ...  I  drags  down  de  widder's 
mite  an' — whut  dat  you  say,  Lily?" 

An  eager  Son  of  Damon  had  stepped  on  Lily's; 
foot  and  the  mascot's  remonstrance  lifted  sharply 
above  the  Wildcat's  words.     "Blaa-a!" 

"Goat,  you  say  let  it  ride*?  .  .  .  Sledge,  us; 
lets  it  lay.  Dat  mascot  neveh  guessed  wrong  yit ! ' 
Shoots  de  fo'  hund'ed." 

"Wilecat,  keep  de  ivory  a  minnit  'till  de  bank; 
visits  de  safe."  Sledge  stood  up  and  walked  to 
ward  the  little  room.  En  route,  with  the  two 
slight  inclinations  of  his  head  he  summoned  ai 
brace  of  followers.  When  the  door  had  closed! 
behind  them  the  trio  went  into  executive  session. 
Sledge  whispered  three  quick  orders.  "Dis  is  de 


LILY  161 

las'  pass,"  he  confided.  "I  tells  him  Fse  done. 
When  he  leaves, — all  I  tells  you  is  fetch  back 
de  cash, — an5  use  de  black-jack.  No  blades. 
Don't  want  no  p'lice  findin'  nothin', — nothin' 
a-tall!  Dat's  dat." 

Sledge  returned  to  his  place  at  the  table  and 
counted  out  four  hundred  dollars.  He  laid  it 
down.  "Wilecat,  de  bank  announces  de  finish 
fade.  You  is  reached  de  play  limit  fo'  de  night." 
To  himself  he  added  another  reservation.  "If 
he  makes  dis  pass  it's  de  las'  one  he  makes  'till 
some  fool  fades  him  in  hell !" 

At  the  Wildcat's  side,  sensing  the  fatal  conse 
quences  of  success,  Demmy  tried  again  to  drag 
his  companion  away  from  the  game.  "Wilecat, 
fo'  de  las'  time  I  tells  you  dem  'lasses  needs  de 
tanks  changed.  Come  on  wid  me  befo'  dey 
busts." 

"Demmy,  at  res' !  As  you  is.  Git  calm.  I 
leaves  wid  you  when  I  shows  dese  lodge  boys  dis 
bank  bustin'  pass  wid  de  dynamite  dice.  Leggo ! 
Watch  de  cyclone  seed  git  big !" 

He  turned  to  the  wide  green  table.  He  held 
the  dice  in  his  left  hand  and  reached  down  gently 
with  his  right  until  his  exploring  fingers  en 
countered  Lily's  uplifted  head.  "Lily,  I  tags 
you  fo'  luck."  He  transferred  the  dice  to  the 


i6z  LILY* 

luck-infested  fingers  of  his  right  hand.  For  an 
instant  he  was  calm,  dispatching  to  his  finger  tips 
a  summons  for  the  exquisite  technique  of  ab 
solute  control.  Then!  "Rifle  dice,  de  las'  cat'- 
ridge!  Bam!  9  »  .  an'  twins  in  de  jitney! 
Five-dooce !" 

The  Wildcat  reached  for  the  money  and  parked 
it  quickly  in  the  depths  of  his  pockets.  "Sledge, 
me  an'  Lily  bids  you  goodnight.  Lodge  folks, 
sho'  proud  to  know  you.  Sez  goodnight  'till  de 
nex'  session/'  He  turned  to  the  door.  "Come 
on  heah,  Demmy.  Us  got  to  'range  dem  'lasses. 
Come  'long,  Lily.  Say  goodnight  to  de  meetin'." 

"Blaa-a!"  The  mascot  spoke  her  farewell  as 
clearly  as  she  could  with  her  face  crowded  with  a 
five-cent  cigar  that  had  been  dropped  by  an  ex 
cited  Son  of  Damon.  "Ba-a !  Blaa-a !" 

Under  the  ripple  of  laughing  comment  that  fol 
lowed  the  mascot's  message  Sledge  whispered  three 
words  to  a  pair  of  desperate  giants  beside  him, 
"Git  him  now!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 


TEN  feet  behind  the  Wildcat  and  Demmy 
on  their  way  out  of  the  Sledge  establish 
ment  the  messengers  of  violence  followed 
them  to  the  exit.  At  the  door  the  Wildcat  turned 
for.  a  moment  and  looked  back.  "Seems  quieted 
down  a  lot,  Demmy.  Us  must  of  killed  de  eve- 
nin's  joy  wid  dat  las'  pass." 

He  faced  the  door.  Behind  him  the  brace  of 
sluggers  stepped  forward  to  trail  him  into  the 
night. 

"Demmy^  seems  like;  de.  ruckus  is  all  died 
down." 

The  Wildcat  stepped  through  the  door,  into 
the  dark,  as  Demmy  voiced  his  reply,  and  on  the 
instant  Demmy's  words  were  smothered  a  mile 
deep  beneath  the  crash  of  a  new  ruckus  that  lifted 
around  the  pair. 

Then,  ahead  of  him,  Demmy  heard  the  Wild- 

163 


164  LILY 

cat's  voice  above  the  tumult.  "Lawd  Gawd, 
Lady  Luck,  float  me  high!'' 

In  the  faint  light  Demmy  saw  the  Wildcat 
grab  for  Lily  and  then  he  felt  a  grip  of  steel 
about  his  wrist.  "Demmy,  dey's  a  deep  flood! 
I  drags  you  out!" 

Around  the  Wildcat's  waist,  down  the  gully 
leading  to  the  room  where  the  evening's  ruckus 
had  so  lately  died,  whirled  a  black  eddying  stream 
on  whose  surface  rode  twisted  rafts  of  tank 
staves  and  timbers  from  the  wrecked  tank  house. 

The  Wildcat,  doubly  burdened,  stumbled  once 
and  disappeared  beneath  the  flood. 

He  came  up,  spouting  like  a  whale  and  shak 
ing  his  head  free  from  its  intimate  covering. 
"Whuff!  'Lasses! . . .  Kick  wid  yo'  feet,  Demmy, 
dey's  high  groun'  close.  .  .  .  'Lasses  tanks 
an'  dat  crap  game  both  bust  de  same  minnit! 
Feel  wid  yo'  feet.  Kaint  keep  me  an'  dis  goat's 
haid  up  much  longeh.  .  .  .  Whuff!  .  .  .  Lawd 
Gawd,  heah's  de  high  groun' !" 

Heavily  freighted  and  swimming  hard  against 
the  current  of  molasses  that  swirled  down  the 
gully  the  Wildcat  felt  the  solid  earth  under  him. 
Five  seconds  later  he  and  his  two  companions 
were  ten  feet  up  the  bank.  "Hot  dam !  Demmy, 
dat  was  sho'  heavy  draggin'  .  .  .  Whuff!  .  .  . 


LILY  165 

Stay  heah  wid  Lily  whilst  I  goes  back  and  see 
does  any  Sons  o'  Damon  crave  a  helpin'  hand." 

He  turned  again  toward  the  Sledge  establish 
ment. 

In  the  dim  light  shining  from  the  curtained 
windows  of  the  Sledge  basement  there  suddenly 
appeared  a  rush  of  panic-stricken  Sons  of  Da 
mon,  and  each  Son  was  trying  his  pussonal  best 
to  unwrap  himself  free  from  his  oozing  shroud  of 
brown  liquid. 

Plumes  and  sashes,  store  clothes  and  complex 
ions  were  one  color  now,  and  the  green  crap 
tables  which  had  been  the  field  of  evening  battle 
was  flooded  deep  with  the  flowing  molasses. 

Lodge  brothers,  slicker  than  diving  seals,  for 
got  the  ritual  of  departure  and  waded  to  their 
necks  in  a  wild  stampede  for  the  windows. 

Demmy  scooped/  enough  of  the  sticky  stuff 
away  from  his  face  to  permit  his  organs  of  speech 
to  function.  He  reached  out  a  restraining  hand 
and  cluched  the  Wildcat's  arm.  "Wilecat,  dem 
'lasses  kaint  git  mo'  dan  five  feet  deep  in  dat 
place, — runs  out  de  winders  to  de  front  street 
befo'  dat.  Stay  'way  f'm  dem  folks.  Don't  ast 
me  mi  thin', — fetch  dat  goat  an'  us  busts  de  leavin' 
time  whilst  de  bars  is  down." 

Impressed  by  his  companion's  words  the  Wild- 


166  LILY 

cat  guessed  the  concealed  half  of  Demmy' s  warn 
ing.  "Demmy,  I'se  wid  you !"  He  turned  to  the 
mascot.  "Come  on  heah,  an*  come  runnin'. 
Le'sgo!" 

A  mile  out  of  town  the  trio  waded  into  the 
waters  of  a  little  creek,  emerging  presently,  fit  to 
travel  half  as  fast  as  Demmy  advised.  "Wile- 
cat,  hit  de  hot  foot  'till  us  ketches  de  no'thbound 
train  at  de  crossin'  tower  stop  whah  you  sees 
dem  green  lights.  Us  is  lef  dis  Ruddville  town 
fo'  de  las'  time/' 

cTsc  comin',  Demmy.  OP  town  ain't  so  bad, 
-^-you  an'  me  made  oveh  fo'  hund'ed  dollahs 
apiece  in  one  night.  .  *  *  Heah  dem  flies  headin' 
fo'  dat  'lasses, — town  gwine  to  be  de  home  plate 
fo'  all  de  flies  in  de  worl'.  ,  .  .  'Lasses  a  foot 
deep  in  de  streets  an'  all  de  cellars  full.  Gran' 
drinkin'  town  when  de  street  pavin'  begins  to  fo 
ment  a  .  a  dat  town's  name  ain't  Ruddville, — 
wid  'lasses  so  clingin'  dat  town's  name  is 
mud.  t  ,  t  Git  marchin',  Lily  befo'  you  sticks!'* 


"Feet, — stan'  by  me!     Lead  agile,  Demmy. 
Come  a-runnin',  Lily!" 

Leaving  Ruddville  and  the  midnight  flood  of 


LILY  167 

molasses  the  Wildcat  needed  no  compass.  Geog 
raphy  is  all  right  if  a  boy  has  plenty  of  time 
but  when  OP  Man  Trouble  is  busting  speed  rec 
ords  on  the  back-trail  the  main  thing  in  life  is 
not  so  much  where-to  as  away-from. 

In  spite  of  a  nocturnal  bath  in  the  cold  waters 
of  Rudd  Creek  the  Wildcat's  mascot  goat  still 
carried  an  intimate  veneer  of  sticky  molasses  that 
cramped  her  style  of  escape.  After  the  first  mile 
down  the  country  road  it  became  necessary  to 
call  a  halt  until  the  goat  could  be  busted  loose 
from  the  lumps  of  molasses-mixed  mud  which 
had  accumulated  on  her  feet. 

In  the  darkness  the  Wildcat  spoke  a  quick 
message  to  his  two-legged  companion  who  was 
setting  the  pace  a  little  ahead  of  him  and  Lily. 
"Demmy,  hold  de  deal  a  minnit  'till  us  nanny- 
cures  dis  goat's  feet  loose  fm  di$  gumbo- 
land." 

Demmy,  the  small  black,  impatient  to  con 
tinue  the  flight,  advised  quick  work,  "Wilecat, 
don't  let  nuthin'  like  plain  mud  stop  you.  Does 
dem  'lasses  fact'ry  folks  find  us  gone  de  fust 
thing  dey  does  is  ketch  us  an'  install  us  per 
manent  whah  you  heahs  de  jail  door  slam, — - 
f 'm  de  inside.  Kick  dat  goat  loose  f'm  de  mud 
an'  come  'long.  Dat  no'thbound  train  is  due 


i68  LILY 

at  de  crossin'  mighty  soon  an'  de  crossin'  is  a 
mile  up  de  pike.  Come  'runnin'." 

"Us  is  comin',  Demmy.  .  .  .  Goat,  see  kin  you 
hit  de  double-time!" 

Lily,  lighter  by  ten  pounds  of  detached  mud 
and  molasses,  did  the  best  she  could.  The 
mascot  seemed  to  sense  the  necessity  for 
haste  and  no  remonstrance  marked  her  steady 
trot. 

Where  the  distant  signal  of  the  railroad  cross 
ing  gleamed  red  the  trio,  with  Demmy  in  the 
lead,  plunged  from  the  road  and  waded  a  shal 
low,  rain-filled  borrow-pit.  When  they  climbed 
the  railway  embankment  the  rails  were  clicking 
with  the  approach  of  the  train  and  a  minute  later 
from  around  a  curve  the  beam  of  the  headlight 
slashed  across  a  wide  segment  of  the  cane  fields 
which  hedged  the  right-of-way. 

"Looks  like  she  ain't  gwine  stop."  The  Wild 
cat  spoke  his  fears. 

"Dat  train  stop.  Grade  crossin'.  OP  en 
gineer  dassn't  run  pas'  de  red  light, — hits  a  de 
rail  an'  sidetracks  into  a  pussonal  cemetery  'less 
he  stops  'till  de  light  shows  green.  I  knows, — 
I  run  dinin'  car  two  yeahs  on  dis  line." 

Demmy  gauged  his  distance  and  began  to 
walk  away  from  the  red  signal.  "Come  on, 


LILY  169 

Wilecat, — us  climbs  on  down  heah.  Third  car 
f'm  de  engine, — right  behin'  de  baggage." 

Five  hundred  feet  from  the  signal  light  the 
trio  waited  in  the  glare  of  the  approaching  head 
light.  The  engine  crashed  past  them  and  the 
train  slowed  to  a  four-mile  rate,  but  before  she 
came  to  a  dead  stop  two  short  signal  whistles  an 
nounced  her  clearance.  "Boost  dat  goat  on  de 
platform !  Dat's  a  highball !"  Demmy  realized 
that  now  was  the  time  for  all  hands  to  climb 
aboard. 

The  Wildcat  boosted  the  mascot  up  the  car 
steps  and  reached  down  for  his  sawed-off  com 
panion's  arm.  "Gimme  yo'  han',  Demmy, — 
dat'sit!  Whuff!  .  .  .  Well,— heah  us  is,  Mem 
phis-bound,  an'  trail  in'  Lady  Luck." 

"Git  inside  de  car  befo'  de  conductor  thinks 
us  is  ridin'  free  an'  unloads  us.  Bring  dat  goat." 
Demmy  wasted  no  time  in  contemplating  their 
luck.  He  opened  the  door  of  the  car  and  plowed 
a  channel  through  the  pungent  and  heavy  odors 
until  he  found  a  vacant  seat.  "Shove  dat  Lily 
undeh  de  seat, — mebbe  dey  objects  to  ridin'  goats 
in  dis  car." 

"Kaint  see  de  reason.  'Longside  de  smell 
whut's  heah  now  dat  goat  is  dollah  musk  an'  de 
cork  lost."  The  Wildcat  crammed  Lily  under 


170  LILY 

the  edge  of  the  seat.  He  took  off  his  hat  and 
looked  around  at  his  sleeping  fellow-passengers* 
"Wonder  whah  all  dese  niggers  is  headed  fo\ — • 
sho'  lots  of  fiel'  han's  travellin'  since  de  wah. 
Niggers  whut  neveh  seed  a  train  is  bustin'  up  an' 
down  de  line  like  dey'd  been  sent  fo'  by  de  an 
gel  Gab'rel!  How  come  so  many  folks  ridin', 
Demmy  <?" 

"Long  on  money  an'  short  on  sense.  Dey  quits 
befo'  long  now, — dis  time  nex'  yeah  a  doll  ah 
look  big  as  de  harves'  moon.  Heah's  de  con 
ductor!" 

Demmy  did  some  quick  thinking.  "Betteh 
not  tell  him  Memphis, — us  hides  out  in  Vicks- 
burg  'till  dis  Ruddville  'lasses  flood  blows  oveh. 
Like  as  not  they  looks  fo'  you  in  Memphis.  Tell 
de  conductor  Vicksburg." 

The  Wildcat  looked  up  at  the  train  conductor 
and  reached  for  the  roll  of  bills  with  which  Lady 
Luck  had  booned  him  less  than  two  hours  before. 
"Cap'n  suh,  me  an'  Demmy  got  on  at  de  cross in? 
an'  didn't  have  time  to  git  no  ticket  at  de  dee-po. 
Us  gwine  to  Vicksburg." 

The  conductor  cut  two  cash  fare  receipts  and 
handed  them  to  the  Wildcat,  together  with  two 
dollars  change  out  of  a  moist  twenty-dollar  bill. 

"Cap'n  suh,   thank  you!"     He  drawled   the 


LILY  171 

pronoun  to  accent  his  relief.  A  boy  never  could 
tell  about  conductors.  Sometimes  they  ran  you 
off  the  train  for  wearing  wet  and  dirty  clothes, 
sometimes  they  unloaded  you  for  no  evident 
reason  at  all.  He  settled  back  against  the  hard 
rattan  seat  and  began  counting  his  money. 
"Demmy,  dat  las'  pass  wid  de  clickers  brung 
eight  hund'ed  an'  dey  was  sixty  layin'  cold, — 
takin'  out  de  money  us  gives  de  man  jest'  now 
dat's  eight  forty,  an'  de  half  is  fo'  twenty  wid  a 
ridin'  high  dollar."  He  counted  out  a  crumpled 
and  sticky  pile  of  greenbacks, — "Fo'  hund'ed,  fo' 
ten,  fo'  twenty.  Dah  you  is, — an'  de  silveh  slug. 
Fo'  hun'ded  an'  twenty  one  dollahs.  Demmy, 
dat  sho'  wuz  a  lucky  five-spot  you  lent  me. 
Built  up  noble/' 

Demmy  took  the  money.  "Wilecat,  you  done 
grand.  Dat's  mo'  money  dan  I'se  seen  since 
likker  got  so  high.  I'se  'bliged.  .  .  .  Boy,  you 
is  sho'  shootin'  square  wid  yo'  podneh!" 

"Aims  to,  Demmy.  I  tol'  you  you  was  half 
in  de  game.  Dat's  half.  Wait  'till  it's  safe  fo' 
us  to  git  to  Memphis  an'  you  sees  ol'  Cap'n  Jack. 
Us  lives  high, — gran'  grub  at  de  big  house,  no 
mo'  work  dan  'nuf  to  keep  you  woke  up, — gran' 
place  to  sleep,  plenty  clo'es,  prancin'  'roun'  wid 
de  Memphis  niggers  at  some  gran'  ruckus  ev'y 


172  LILY 

night.  Compared  wid  workin'  in  dat  'lasses 
fac'ry  back  dere  you'll  think  Memphis  is  heaven 
on  high." 

"Wilecat,  sho'  soun's  gran',  but  how  you  know 
Cap'n  Jack  let  me  work  'roun'  his  place*?" 

"How  does  I  know!  Demmy,  me  an'  de 
Cap'n  fit  de  wah  togetheh  an'  I  took  care  de  Cap'n 
afteh  dat  an'  brung  him  an'  de  Missus  home  to 
New  Yawk.  OP  Cap'n  couldn't  do  nuthin'  'less 
us  wuz  dere.  He  depen's  on  me,  heavy.  Bears 
down  on  me  when  dey's  any  thin'  a- tall  to  be 
done.  Spec'  widout  me  de  Cap'n  kaint  git  along 
none.  All  you  needs  to  git  workin'  wid  Cap'n 
Jack  is  fo'  me  to  tell  him,  'Cap'n  Jack,  heah's 
Demmy.  Demmy  craves  to  hire  wid  you. 
Sho'  a  gran'  boy  whah  dey's  work  star  in'  him  in 
de  face.  Reckon  us  betteh  pay  him  good  wages, 
Cap'n,  times  is  so  hard.'  Dat's  all  I  need  to  tell 
Cap'n  Jack  an'  you  is  set  lovely  in  de  glue  of 
joy.  I  knows  dat  man, — Cap'n  Jack's  my  white 
folks." 

To  the  Wildcat  Captain  Jack  was  the  one  safe 
refuge  in  time  of  storm.  Captain  Jack's  sphere 
of  influence  was  a  cyclone  cellar  wherein  a  boy 
could  find  sanctuary  from  Ol'  Man  Trouble  and 
unless  Captain  Jack  was  somewhere  in  the  vicinity 
and  riding  herd  on  Lady  Luck  that  fickle  goddess 


LILY  173 

degenerated  into  a  temporary  visitor.  The  Wild 
cat  craved  Lady  Luck  as  a  permanent  companion 
and  with  the  lengthening  miles  he  came  to  realize 
that  as  soon  as  he  and  Demmy  could  leave  the 
sanctuary  of  Vicksburg  the  big  bet  was  to  let 
Captain  Jack  do  all  the  worrying  that  had  to  be 
done  about  capturing  and  retaining  the  intermit 
tent  goddess. 

Until  the  day  dawned  the  pair  alternately 
dozed  and  awakened  to  indulge  in  plans  for  the 
future.  In  these  plans  Captain  Jack's  depend 
ence  on  the  Wildcat  was  heavily  featured. 
"Widout  me,  Demmy,  de  man  kaint  do  nuthinV 

When  the  train  butcher  began  his  rounds  the 
pair  invested  heavily  in  tobacco  and  peanuts,  soda 
pop,  sandwiches  and  a  candy  that  ran  about  six 
cubic  feet  to  the  pound.  Under  the  seat,  Lily 
ate  her  share  of  the  food  and  gave  her  attention 
to  a  half-smoked  cigar  which  the  Wildcat  dis 
carded  in  favor  of  one  that  wasn't  unraveled  quite 
so  much.  At  the  puffed  molasses  candy  the  goat 
drew  the  line.  A  swim  in  a  tankful  of  heavy 
molasses  and  a  battle  against  a  flowing  flood  of 
the  sticky  liquid  had  been  included  in  the  night's 
terrors  and  for  the  time  being  Lily  was  fed  up 
on  molasses.  What  she  craved  was  good  eating 
tobacco.  She  munched  thoughtfully  on  the  grati- 


174  LILY 

fying  cigar  and  listened  to  her  master's  exposition 
of  Captain  Jack's  helplessness.  "Widout  me, 
Demmy,  dat  man  is  los'  in  de  high  cane." 

Lily    bleated    faintly.     "Blaa-a! — mebbe    he 
ain't  so  los'  widout  you  as  you  think/' 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THREE  hours  after  die  pair  of  molasses- 
flood  refugees  arrived  in  Vicksburg  they 
hired    out    at    Colonel    Fairfield's    city 
house.     Thereafter  for  a  week,  striving  to  please, 
the  Wildcat  added  considerably  to  his  reputation 
for  being  able  to  act  like  a  good  boy  no  matter 
how  he  felt. 

On  Saturday  night,  bursting  with  an  exuber 
ance  that  came  from  unnatural  good-behavior  and 
a  roll  of  unspent  greenbacks,  he  indulged  himself 
in  a  prowl.  Dawn  found  him  feeble  with  leg 
misery  and  ailing  mightily,  bemoaning  his  plaint 
to  an  indifferent  world. 

"Dis  world  of  sin  I  craves  to  leave, 
De  angels  sing  an'  do  not  grieve, 
I  craves  to  jine  'em,  hand  to  hand, 
An'  neveh  leave  dat  heavenly  band." 

Over  in  another  corner  of  the  Fairfield  wood 
shed,  Demmy,  the  sawed-off  member  of  the  duet 

175 


176  LILY 

whose  mutual  friendship  had  been  cemented  with 
a  flood  of  sticky  molasses,  pried  the  mascot  goat's 
mouth  ajar  with  a  stick  of  kindling  wood  and 
propped  it  open  with  a  clothespin.  "Reveal  yo'- 
se'f,  fool,  an'  stay  revealed.  Go  blatterin'  'roun' 
heah  fm  eatin'  pork'pine  bushes!  Stan'  still. 
Mebbe  dis  learns  you  neveh  to  relish  dese  thistle 
bushes." 

Demmy  picked  the  stickers  out  of  Lily's  mouth 
to  an  accompaniment  of  song  from  the  Wildcat, 
prone  on  his  pallet  in  the  corner  of  the  wood 
shed. 

'Heah  I  is,  Lawd,  wid  my  breas'plate  on, — 
Sweep  me  up  on  high, — 
Waitin',  Lawd,  wid  my  breas'plate  on; 
Honin'  fo'  mah  home  on  high." 

"You  gits  on  high  afteh  de  front  seats  is  filled. 
Wilecat,  how  come  you  is  so  soggy  minded*?' 
Lawd  don't  crave  no  sweepin's.  Lawd  sweep 
you  up  wid  a  club.  Preacheh  says  think  befo' 
you  jumps.  'Member  dat  nex'  time  when  you 
starts  flyin'  an'  finishes  muscle-bound." 

"Gwine  to  be  no  nex'  time.     Neveh  gwine  lea] 
no  mo'." 

"Serve  you  right  did  yo'  neck  git  busted,  'ste; 
of  only  strained  yo'  laigs.     Heah  you  'dulges  yo'- 


LILY  177 

se'f  in  a  night  prowl  an'  gits  chased.  Den  whut 
happens.  You  climbs  a  fence.  An'  jumps  sud 
den.  Thinks  you  knowed  de  lay  of  de  Ian'. 
Thinks  you  knows  yo'  own  alley.  All  I  sez, 
serves  you  right." 

"Demmy,  how  I  know  dem  neighbors  wuz  dig- 
gin'  dat  deep  pit  fo'  dat  'cinerator  thing.  Las' 
hund'ed  yeahs  dey  hauls  garbage.  How  come  dis 
'cinerator  pit  rage  so  sudden?  How  come  dat 
pit  right  whah  I  aimed  to  land?  Naw  suh !  OP 
Lady  Luck  los'  mah  name  else  she  waited  wid  a 
helpin'  han'  when  I  fell.  Devil  yell  Tick  yo' 
podneh'  an'  OP  Man  Trouble  picked  me." 

"Serve  you  right.  How  come  you  night  prowl 
anyhow?  Some  woman,  some  place,  seems  like 
to  me." 

"Demmy,  you  wrongs  me.  Ain't  no  woman. 
Whut  fo'  I  go  prowlin'  afteh  some  woman?  Got 
me  single  troubles  'nuf  now  'thout  hitchin'  on  any 
double  extry." 

"Dat's  whut  dey  all  says.  I  spec'  to  see  you 
hawg-tied  in  madrimony  any  day  now  since  de 
word  went  roun*  you  had  money." 

"Ain't  got  money.  'Vested  it  wid  a  back-pay 
man  whut  is  gittin'  us  ahmy  boys  de  boonus." 

"You  says.  I  strains  to  b'lieve  you.  Naw 
suh,  Wilecat.  You  is  sho'  backslid  on  de  sin 


178  L I L  Y 

road.  All  I  knows  is  once  you  an'  dis  goat  wuz 
upright.  Den  you  gits  de  night  prowls,  loses 
yo'  money,  like  to  busts  yo'  laigs  gittin'  loose 
f'm  whut  chased  you  an'  de  goat  takes  to  nibblin' 
thistles  an'  pork'pine  vines.  Yo'  mis'ry  is  richly 
d'served.  Richly  d'served  an'  not  half  plenty. 
Heah  I  stays  by  de  house,  close  like  de  down 
marshal  knowed  mah  name,  an*  all  I  gits  is  a 
added  burden  to  bend  mah  back.  You  ain't  done 
nuthin'  'cept  lay  down.  How  dem  laigs ?  Ain't 
you  able  to  wrassle  dat  jag  of  fancy  washin'  de 
Gunnel's  wife  is  sendin'  to  de  French  laun'ry?" 

"Spec'  I  kin,  Demmy.  See  kin  I."  Groaning 
plenty  with  every  move  the  Wildcat  tried  his 
legs  and  found  them  better  than  he  wanted  them 
to  be.  When  work  crowded  down  heavy  a  good 
pair  of  sprained  legs  were  pretty  handy  to  have. 
They  had  served  as  a  shield  between  him  and 
hard  work  for  four  days,  and  now  it  appeared  that 
the  time  had  come  when  Demmy  would  be  re 
lieved  of  some  of  the  heavy  running  around. 
"Whuff!  Dat  righ'  laig  feels  kinda  gentle. 
(Lef  one  is  able  to  stan'  up.  Whah  dem 
clo'es?' 

"Time  you  wuz  askin'  whah  de  work  is. 
iYou'se  been  askin'  whah  it  ain't  long  'nuf.  I 
gits  de  clo'es  an'  fetches  'em  heah.  You  lugs  'em 


LILY  179 

to  de  laun'ry.     Rise  up  an*  pick  yo'se'f  up  an' 

walk!" 

With  this  parting  admonition  the  sawed-off 
Demmy  left  the  woodshed  and  meandered  up  the 
path  toward  the  Fairfield  house,  where,  on  the 
back  veranda  rested  a  bundle  of  feminine  wear 
ing  apparel  whose  fabric  had  seemed  too  delicate 
to  be  entrusted  to  the  rough  and  ready  attentions 
of  the  Colonel's  Amazon  laundress. 

The  Wildcat  stepped  gentle  as  if  time  had 
suddenly  booned  him  with  a  premium  of  bone 
spavin.  He  hobbled  to  the  corner  of  the  wood 
shed  where  the  mascot  goat  was  trying  her  teeth 
on  an  old  rubber  boot.  "Lay  off  dat  boot! 
How  come  you  git  yo'  face  full  of  thistle  bristles? 
Ain't  you  learned  whut  is  delicate  an'  whut  ain't1? 
Stan'  roun'heah!" 

With  the  length  of  clothes-line  in  his  hand 
the  Wildcat  relayed  the  abusive  and  critical  lan 
guage  which  Demmy  had  showered  down  on  him 
during  the  last  four  days.  "Goat,  one  moj  step 
on  de  sin  road  an'  you  gits  de  hot  end  of  dis 
rope.  Stan'  still!" 

Lily  stood  still.  About  her  neck  the  Wildcat 
looped  the  thin  rope.  He  fixed  it  in  position 
with  a  series  of  loose  knots  and  presently  the  mas 
cot  was  meshed  in  a  complicated  net  of  harness 


i8o  L I  L  Y 

from  which  trailed  a  jerk-line  and  a  pair  of  free 
ends.  "Back  up !"  Lily  was  boosted  to  position 
fronting  a  broken-down  baby  carriage  that  stood 
against  the  wall  of  the  woodshed.  "Goat,  halt! 
Quit  eatin'  dat  rope  befo'  I  hangs  you  wid  it!" 

A  few  more  clumsy  knots  and  Lily  was  hitched. 
"Dah  you  is.  Dah  you  stays.  In  de  harness. 
Ponder  on  gee-haw  an'  ponder  which  is  which. 
F'm  now  on,  whilst  my  laigs  is  ailin',  all  de  heavy 
haulin'  is  done  by  a  four-legged  varmint  whut 
ain't  got  betteh  sense  dan  to  eat  briars.  Serves 
you  right." 

Demmy  appeared  in  the  doorway  with  the  bag 
of  laundry.  "How  come  de  hitched-up  goat*? 
Dis  washin'  weighs  light." 

"Goat  does  de  haulin7.  Starts  dat  mascot  wid 
light  washin'  an'  finish  wid  pig-iron  befo'  I'se 
through.  Learn  dat  goat.  Whah  de  Gunnel  say 
take  dem  raiment?  Which  French  laun'ry?" 

"Speckle  face  woman  by  de  tan-yard. 
Woman's  name  Magnezia  Bunny.  Ain't  neveh 
seed  her.  Cook  say  she  light  built  an'  spin'lin'." 

Demmy  dropped  the  bundle  of  clothes  in  the 
baby  carriage.  "Git  goin'.  An'  come  back  soon. 
De  kindlin'  hatchet  needs  trainin'.  I'se  busy  wid 
de  coal  bin  f'm  now  'till  suppeh.  On  yo'  way.J} 

The  mantle  of  command  which  the  Wildcat 


LILY  181 

had  worn  seemed  suddenly  to  have  been  trans 
ferred  to  Demmy's  narrow  shoulders  but  in  his 
solid  friendship  for  his  diminutive  companion  the 
Wildcat  found  nothing  of  resentment  at  Demmy's 
assumption  of  authority.  On  the  contrary  he 
seemed  to  relish  the  new  business  of  being  bossed 
around.  "I'se  gwine,  Demmy.  Don't  be  so 
temp'rary  wid  me  an'  Lily.  Us  is  ailin'." 

"You  be  ailin'  worse  'less  you  burns  a  shoe. 
Git  goin'  an'  git  comin'  back.  Don't  delay  wid 
dat  spin'lin'  Magnezia  woman  whut  runs  de  fancy 
laun'ry.  Neveh  seed  her  but  de  cook  says  she's 
been  hitched  twice  an'  aims  to  repeat." 

"Aims  lots,  does  she  crave.  I'se  aim  proof. 
Lots  has  aimed  but  none  is  pulled  de  triggeh." 
The  Wildcat  growled  his  marching  orders  at  the 
mascot.  "Git  goin',  Lily.  Hit  de  collah." 

"Neveh  mind  how  aim  proof  you  is."  Demmy 
called  a  parting  word  of  advice.  "When  de  you- 
an'-me  talks  begins,  you  grunt.  Grunt  an'  come 
back  single  'stead  of  double  wid  trouble.  Don't 
say  no  social  words  to  no  yaller  widdahs  whut 
has  French  laun'ry  blood  in  'em.  See  you  at 
suppeh  time." 

The  Wildcat  and  Lily,  convoying  their  cargo 
of  laundry,  limped  their  slow  way  down  the 
length  of  the  alley.  Where  the  alley  met  the 


i8i  LILY 

wide  street  they  swung  to  the  left.  About  here, 
without  knowing  it,  they  parted  company  with 
Lady  Luck. 

2 

Six  feet  high,  young,  skinny  and  cinnamon- 
faced,  Magnezia  Bunny  had  chased  one  forgotten 
husband  into  the  sanctuary  of  a  penitentiary, 
killed  a  second  by  the  slow  process  of  renting  him 
out  as  a  field-hand,  and  was  just  now  engaged 
in  looking  for  a  third  victim.  The  French  laun 
dry  brought  in  a  living  without  much  work. 
When  her  business  associates  in  Vicksburg  were 
clearing  two  dollars  a  day  Magnezia  paraded  her 
technical  superiority  and  killed  competition. 
She  left  the  parade  in  possession  of  a  reputation 
for  being  the  best  laundress  on  fine  work  for 
miles  around.  Exclusive,  that  was  her  motto. 
Folks  had  to  be  somebody  before  they  attracted 
her  professional  attention.  Being  somebody  in 
her  mind  meant  a  commercial  rating  first  of  all, 
no  matter  what  the  social  register  might  have 
to  say.  "Folks  thinks  if  things  cost  twice  as 
much  dey's  twice  as  fine.  I  learns  dat  when  I 
seed  my  fust  man  relish  a  nickel  see-gar  whut  de 
saloon  man  put  in  de  ten-cent  box.  Tse  learned 


LILY  183 

lots  since  den,  but  it  stays  de  truth.  Folks  pays 
big  money  to  be  fooled.  I  fools  'em.  Cost  mo* 
to  have  me  wash  an'  iron  a  pair  of  silk  stockin's 
dan  whut  de  stockin's  demselves  used  to  cost. 
S'clusive,— dat'sme!" 

Toward  this  exclusive  establishment,  riding 
herd  on  the  hitched-up  mascot  goat  and  leaning 
lightly  on  the  handle  of  the  baby  carriage,  limped 
the  Wildcat.  "G'long,  Lily,  gittin'  late.  Don't 
crave  to  miss  no  rations  an'  dese  laigs  ain't 
'quipped  wid  much  speed  dis  aftehnoon.  Git 
'longdah!" 

"Blaa-a !"  Lily  receipted  for  the  message,  and 
then,  her  mouth  still  sore  from  an  over-indul 
gence  in  nettles,  she  held  her  lower  jaw  at  a 
cross  between  "Ah"  and  parade-rest. 

The  Wildcat  asked  his  way.  "Whah  at  de 
Bunny  woman  live"?  I  means  de  washlady 


woman." 


"Nex'  do'  de  grocery  at  de  co'neh.     De  yaller 
do'  house." 

"Lily,  git  in  dat  collah.  Step  wide !" 
In  front  of  the  yellow-door  house  the  parade 
halted  long  enough  for  the  Wildcat  to  restrain 
Lily  with  a  few  turns  of  rope  around  one  of  the 
pickets  of  the  fence.  This  accomplished  he 
mounted  the  narrow  porch  and  rapped  loudly  on 


184  LILY 

the  panels  of  the  yellow  door.  On  the  instant 
the  lifted  edge  of  an  upstairs  lace  curtain  fell  to 
place  and  the  Wildcat  heard  a  patter  of  slippers 
on  a  stairway.  Then  his  ears  were  seduced  with 
two  gentle  syllables,  cooed  in  the  sundown  tone 
of  a  turtle  dove.  "Enteh!" 


Again  the  soft  voice  from  within  the  house. 
"Please  come  in." 

«  Who,—  me?" 

A  boy  never  could  be  too  careful  responding 
to  these  trap  voices.  Mebbe  nobody  had  said 
nuthin'.  Sounded  some  like  spirits.  Best  thing 
to  do  was  to  step  down  off  the  porch  to  where 
Lily  and  the  laundry  were  real  and  tangible. 
The  Wildcat  retreated  one  step  to  the  rear, 
stumbled  and  got  a  red  hot  reaction  out  of  his 
sprained  knee.  "Hot  dam  !  O  Lawdy  an'  vine 
gar  wid  de  shootin'  blaze  in  mah  laig  !  Oof?  !" 

The  door  opened  to  emit  a  blast  of  guinea  hen 
language  in  which  the  dove  accents  were  com 
pletely  lost.  "Hush  yo'  mouth,  nigger!  Hush 
yo'  yell  in'  befo'  dis  lef  wing  unkinks  a  transfer 
and  knocks  you  f'm  heah  to  whah  yoj  face  is  a 
dimple.  Shut  up!" 

This  was  something  that  could  be  understood. 


LILY  185 

"Yass-um!  S'cuse  de  ruckus  talk.  I  brung  de 
washin'  f  m  Gunnel  Fairfield's." 

"Bring  it  down  de  side  path.  Fron'  do'  ain't 
no  laun'ry  entrance." 

"Yass-um  !" 

Lily  was  cast  loose  from  her  moorings  and 
hazed  through  the  narrow  gate  and  around  the 
house.  At  the  far  end  of  the  pathway  a  wide 
expanse  of  clothes-lines,  half  of  them  draped 
with  silk  and  fine  linen,  met  the  Wildcat's  eye. 
Laces,  too  delicate  to  be  warped  by  clothes-pins, 
lay  around  in  the  sunlight,  supported  on  a  series 
of  white  wood  frames  a  foot  from  the  ground. 

"Tie  up  dat  goat  an'  fetch  dat  laun'ry  in 
side!" 

"Yass-um!"  Here  was  a  regular  industry. 
No  washlady's  establishment  had  ever  been  like 
this.  Here  was  a  superior  organization,  and  the 
boss  of  it  was  giving  orders.  The  Wildcat  tied 
Lily  to  a  clothes  pole  and  groaned  a  little,  for 
effect,  when  he  stooped  over  to  lift  the  ten-pound 
bundle  of  clothes  out  of  the  baby  carriage, 
"Whuff!  Dem  wounds  sho'  is  ragin'," 

"Bring  it  in  dis  do'." 

"Yass-um.     Lawdy,   but  mah   wounds  pains 


me." 


186  LILY 

"Whut  wounds?  White  man  wound  you  close 
to  a  hen-house?" 

"Mis'  Bunny,  you  flails  de  mo'tal  flesh  wid 
dem  words.  Dese  is  wah  wounds  I  'cumulated 
back  in  France." 

"In  de  back,  you  say?  Long  time  ago,  seems 
like,  dat  wah." 

"Dese  is  long-time  wounds.  Bay'nits,  pistil 
shots,  cannon  balls,  shaprel, — one  an*  all  I  met 
an'  konkered.  Lef  me  feeble." 

The  veteran  modulated  his  voice  to  a  tremolo 
to  fit  his  recital.  Inside  the  kitchen  his  eyes  fell 
on  half  a  boiled  ham  resting  at  ease  on  a  platter. 
He  resumed  his  wild  recital  of  his  A.  E.  F.  ordeal, 
winding  up  with  a  burst  of  criticism  directed  at 
the  mess  sergeant  of  his  outfit.  "Boy  neveh  fed 
us  a-tall.  Sold  de  rations  an'  drunk  hisself  to 
de  fo'gettin'  point  wid  de  money  ev'ry  month. 
Ain't  got  mo'  dan  half  caught  up  wid  mah  rations 
in  goin'  on  two  yeahs,  steady  eatin'.  Seems  like 
my  wounds  an'  dem  wah  'flictions  lef  me  wid 
de  perm'nent  craves  in  my  stummick.  I'se  a 
Wilecatfo'ham!" 

He  looked  directly  and  fixedly  at  the  ham. 

"Set  down  'till  I  gits  you  a  ham  san'wich." 

The  day  was  won. 

"Woman,  whet  de  blade!     Omit  out  de  san- 


LILY  187 

wich  part.  Don't  aim  to  let  no  bread  clutter  up 
my  neck  whilst  de  ham  lasts.  Plain  ham! 
Bread  I  tolerates  when  dey  ain't  nuthin'  else 
but." 

"Ham  yo'se'f  whilst  I  gits  de  coffee  hot." 


CHAPTER   XV 

AN  hour  later,  when  the  ham  had  sunk 
without  a  trace  in  a  dozen  cups  of  coffee, 
the  Wildcat  indulged  in  a  groan  of  hap 
piness.  "Whuff!  Magnezia,  spec'  heaven  is  a 
ham  island  in  a  coffee  lake, — wid  you  wettin'  a 
whetstone  whilst  I  swings  de  ham  knife.  Nobles' 
rations  I  eveh  et!" 

"G'long  wid  yo'  plaugin'  talk.     You  sez  dat !" 

"I'se  a  bullet  fo'  ham, — whinin'  soft  an'  bitin' 
heavy.  Ain't  no  mo', — is  dey  ?  Dat's  whut  sez ! 
You  sho'  is  de  ham  cookinist  woman  I'se  eveh 
knowed!" 

"Wilecat, — go  'long!  You  cuts  yo'  words  to 
de  pattern  an'  us  all  wimmin  gits  de  same  dress." 

"Ain't  so.  Means  it.  Always  thought  how 
gran'  ham  wuz, — wid  a  woman  whut  really 
knowed  ham  cookinY' 

"Wilecat!" 

"Magnezia!" 

The  Wildcat  was  slipping  and  he  knew  it. 
He  recovered  and  buzzed  loudly  in  the  web. 

188 


LILY  189 

"Got  to  be  goin'  now  befo'  oP  Gunnel  lets  go 
de  bloodhoun's." 

"How  much  yo'  white-folks  boon  you  in  wages'? 
Seems  like  you  is  mighty  anxious  to  git  back." 

"Depen's.  Git  none  lately.  Ain't  spoke 
money-talk  since  us  hired  on.  Aims  to  make  'nuf 
to  pay  fo'  a  blue  suit  an'  dem  yaller  shoes  I 
bought  me  f'm  de  'stallment  sto'.  Gran'  shoes!" 

"Wilecat, — put  on  dat  raiment  an'  'tend  de 
party!  to-night  at  Sis'  Lizafs  house.  Woman 
wid  a  husban'  in  heaven — o'  elsewhah.  Gran' 
time, — wid  an'  includin'  all  de  Liza  gin  you  kin 
drink.  You  an'  me.  Us  goes  double." 

'Whut  de  place4?" 

"Fo'  gates  f'm  de  Black  Beauty  Livery, — you 
knows  de  place !" 

"I  knows, — I  comes  an'  meets  you  accidental. 
Dat's  de  bes'  way." 

"Whut  makes  you  hangin'  back4?  You  ain't 
double  is  you, — an'  deceivin'." 

"'Clares  not.  Tol'  you  once.  No  tag  on  me 
'cept  de  Lawd's  breas'plate.  Neveh  doubled 
none.  Got  plenty  trouble  widout  doublin'." 

"You  sho'  you  comes, — ain't  deceivin"?" 

"Ain't  no  deceiveh.  Got  de  Lawd's  breas' 
plate  on.  Sees  you  dis  night.  Got  to  beat  de 
bloodhoun's  now  gittin'  back^" 


190  LILY 

Stoop-shouldered  with  his  cargo  of  hope  and 
ham  the  Wildcat  staggered  to  his  feet  and  hobbled 
to  the  kitchen  door.  At  the  door  he  paused  for 
a  moment  for  the  final  syllables  of  a  farewell 
in  which  was  mingled  thanks  for  the  ham  and 
prayers  for  the  future.  The  tenor  of  his  gratitude 
inspired  a  reply  from  the  widow  and  in  her  words 
again  sounded  the  cooing  dove  notes  which  had 
first  greeted  him  through  the  front  door  of  the 
house.  "Aw,  honey, — hush!" 

Honey  hushed,  having  nothing  better  to  do, 
and  his  embarrassed  eyes,  seeking  escape  from  the 
widow's  saccharine  glances,  travelled  to  the  silk 
and  lace  mosaic  of  feminine  apparel  that  mottled 
the  backyard.  For  a  moment  thereafter  his  vision 
failed  to  register.  Then  he  gulped  twice  and 
batted  his  eyes.  He  closed  his  eyes,  tight,  as  if 
to  blot  the  scene  from  his  mind.  Then  his  lips 
framed  his  mascot's  name.  Three  times  he  tried 
to  call  the  goat  but  no  sound  came  until  a  length 
of  nervous  tongue  moistened  enough  of  his  dry 
lips  to  permit  speech.  "Lily!"  His  voice  was 
pitched  low.  Thereafter,  as  loud  as  he  could 
yell,  he  fired  a  volley  of  commands  at  the  goat 
and  in  his  words  was  battle. 

Lily,  nibbling  delicately  on  what  had  been  a 


LILY  191 

lace  collar  worth  ten  times  its  weight  in  gold,  an 
swered  sweetly.  "Blaa-a!" 

The  startled  widow,  looking  over  the  Wildcat's 
shoulder,  saw  a  wide  new  channel  in  the  sea  of 
silk  and  linen.  The  channel  was  three  feet  wide 
and  it  began  at  the  place  where  Lily  had  chewed 
her  hitching  rope  in  two.  It  meandered  along 
for  fifty  feet  to  where  the  mascot  goat  returned 
the  Wildcat's  hail  as  best  she  could  with  a  stomach 
gorged  with  lace  and  grass  and  silk.  "Blaa-a!" 

Action  followed  the  Wildcat's  words,  and  it 
was  Magnezia  who  acted.  A  broom,  launched 
at  Lily,  stripped  a  ten-foot  length  of  clothes-line 
of  its  cargo.  The  handle  of  a  clothes-wringer, 
twisting  through  its  trajectory,  reaped  a  harvest 
of  lingerie  three  feet  to  the  right  of  the  goat. 

Lily,  with  a  look  of  injured  innocence  shining 
virtuously  from  her  eyes,  asked  one  question  in 
goat  language  before  she  was  lifted  high  above 
her  banquet  table  by  her  master's  arms.  "Lily, 
fo'  less  dan  money  you  gits  sold  to  de  slaughter 
house.  Dis  time  you  is  et  yo'se'f  to  de  edge  of 
yo'  grave.  Lay  dere,  varmint,  'till  I  axes  whah 
de  road  to  de  butcher's!" 

The  Wildcat  slammed  the  goat  down  into  the 
baby  carriage  to  which  the  mascot  had  so  lately 


192  LILY, 

been  hitched.  "Lay  still !  Repent  an'  'wait  de 
minnit  of  sacrifice !  He  turned  to  the  war-danc 
ing  widow.  "Magnezia,  all  I  sez,  fo'  de  present, 
is  words.  An'  dem  words  is  whut  de  judge  sez 
when  de  jury  sez  'Guilty.'  Dis  is  de  las'  time 
Lily  pesters  you  wid  .  .  .  ' 

The  double  widow,  looking  at  the  cringing 
form  in  the  baby  carriage,  was  suddenly  reminded 
of  the  fact  that  heaven  disguises  its  blessings 
every  so  often.  "Wilecat,  shower  down  mercy !" 
In  her  mind,  superior  to  her  rage,  flashed  a  scheme 
whose  success  would  substitute  the  word  Marsden 
for  the  Bunny  part  of  her  name.  "Dat  goat  has 
et  de  profits  of  a  year's  work  but  she  didn't  know 
no  better.  Fo'give  de  transgresseh  an'  judge  not 
les'  ye  be  penned  up  wid  hoss  thieves.  De  Lawd 
gives  an'  hauls  back.  I'se  only  a  lone  an'  down- 
trod  widdah,  a  clingin'  vine  wid  nobody  laborin' 
in  de  vineyard, — but  I'se  will  in'  to  fo'git  an'  fo'- 
give  dat  li'l  goat."  The  nobility  of  Mis'  Bunny's 
words  was  all  gummed  up  with  sobs  and  blind 
gestures.  She  groped  feebly  through  her  tears 
and  encountered  the  Wildcat's  arms. 

"Magnezia, — dry  dem  tears.  Ain't  nuthin' 
los'  but  laun'ry." 

Sympathy.     Quicksand. 

Ten  seconds  later,  far  from  feeble,  Magnezia 


LILY  193 

Bunny  had  embraced  the  Wildcat  in  a  drowning 
clinch  that  felt  like  a  session  with  a  cinnamon 
bear. 

In  his  babble  of  comforting  words  the  Wild 
cat  had  spoken  no  verbal  options,  but  a  moment 
after  his  eloquent  and  soothing  phrases  had  ceased 
the  widow  answered  him,  and  her  reply  was  an 
acceptance  of  various  unoffered  things,  including 
one  husband.  "Wilecat,  honey,  I  does.  I  takes 
you,  betteh  or  worsen  I  'cepts  yo'  pleadin'  fo' 
my  hand  in  wedlock.  Sho'  do, — an'  to-night  at 
de  party  us  'nounces  our  impendin'  weddin'  festiv 
ities." 

Over  the  widow's  shoulder,  his  hands  hanging 
hopeless  and  heavy  at  his  side  while  he  breathed 
with  difficulty  in  the  bear- trap  clasp  of  his  impetu 
ous  fiancee,  the  Wildcat  gulped  convulsively  at  his 
sudden  fate.  He  batted  his  eyes.  The  eye-bat 
ting  slowed  down  and  his  lids  stayed  put,  a  cur 
tain  between  the  fearful  present  and  a  future 
compared  to  which  the  present  was  a  steam- 
heated  paradise.  Whichever  way  he  looked  he 
saw  a  barbed  wire  trouble  fence  too  high  to  be 
scaled. 

"Honey,  you  is  so  cold.  How  come  you  so 
ca'm  an'  steady  when  I'se  all  fluttered  wid  de 
beatin'  of  my  heart?  You  deceives  me.  I  bet 


194  LILY 

you  is  a  o?  hand  wid  de  flame  of  love, — bet  you 
could  build  a  June  love  bonfire  in  de  April  rain. 
Why  is  you  deceivin'  so?" 

"Ain't  no  deceiveh.  Tol'  you  once.  When 
is  dese  heah  weddin5  calamities  happen  you  speaks 
about?" 

"  'Gagement  is  broadcasted  to-night  at  Sis' 
Liza's  party.  De  elect  folks  gin' ally  holds  de 
weddin'  f'm  five  to  seven  days  afteh  dey  tells  de 
worF  'bout  de  'gagement.  Dis  is  Monday. 
'Nounces  to-night  an'  nex'  Monday  gits  de 
preacheh.  High  noon.  Aftehnoon,  hack  drive. 
Evening, — aw,  Wilecat,  honey!  Lawd,  how  de 
time  do  drag!" 

The  Wildcat  saw  a  temporary  out.  "Ain't 
draggin'  now.  Release  go  dem  twinin'  arms  an' 
I  gits  back  an'  'dorns  me  wid  de  blue  pants  an' 
dem  yaller  shoes, — so's  folks  sees  me  prancin' 
when  dis  'gagement  bizness  is  toP  to-night." 

The  victim  sought  freedom  that  he  might  be 
alone  in  his  misery.  He  squirmed  loose  and  a 
moment  later,  wheeling  Lily  along  at  a  four-mile 
pace  that  indicated  a  sudden  and  complete  cure 
of  the  laig  feebles,  he  was  on  his  way  to  the 
Fairfield  woodshed  where  Demmy  waited.  He 
relied  on  Demmy.  He  bore  down  heavy  on 
Demmy,  trusting  to  that  diminutive  genius  in 


LILY  195 

this  hour  of  peril.  "Dat  boy  is  little  but  his 
head  part  is  all  whale  meat.  Huh!  Demmy 
learn  dat  Magnezia  woman  whah  to  go  wid  dat 
hitchin'  bizness  talk.  'Boy,  git  me  out  of  dis.' 
Tells  Demmy  an'  lays  back  whilst  he  'ranges  me 
loose  f'm  dis  home  cravin'  widdah.  When  dey 
is  six  gallopers  in  a  crap  game  I  gits  double 
hitched, — mebbe.  Only  two  dice  now  an'  dey  is 
worked  to  death  makin'  a  livin  fo'  me, — let  alone 
some  lazy  manager  you  is  doubled  wid.  Dis 
heah  Demmy  'ranges  me  free.  Tell  Demmy  how 
come.  Demmy  fixes  it." 

He  tried  to  dismiss  the  subject  from  his  mind 
and  to  dwell  upon  the  happy  single  past  instead 
of  his  doubtful  double  future. 

The  mascot  goat,  sogged  down  in  the  cramped 
interior  of  the  baby  carriage,  knowing  full  well 
that  her  stock  was  under  par  for  the  moment,  took 
advantage  of  a  cobbled  strip  of  street  to  change 
her  bouncing  position  until  her  front  feet  lolled 
over  the  front  rim  of  the  vehicle.  Thereafter, 
setting  pretty,  Lily  enjoyed  the  business  of  being 
transported  without  personal  exertion.  She 
voiced  her  satisfaction  in  a  gentle  bleat  which 
served  to  start  another  cycle  of  brooding  in  the 
Wildcat's  brain.  "Goat,  shut  yo'  face!  Heah 
I  is,  thinkin'  of  all  dem  good  times  whut  us  had 


196  LILY 

in  de  wah  an'  you  blats  in  wid  yo'  say-so  an' 
brings  me  back  to  trompled  laun'ry  an'  dat  home 
cravin'  Magnezia.  One  mo'  blaa-a  f'm  you  an' 
us  goes  fust  to  whah  dey  sells  goats  fo'  slaughter 
house  pu' poses." 

Lily  was  silent  thereafter,  silent  with  a  fixed 
purpose  that  indicated  her  understanding  of  the 
Wildcat's  words.  Until  she  stretched  her  legs 
and  trotted  around  in  the  freedom  of  the  wood 
shed  back  of  the  Fairfield  house  no  sound  cluttered 
up  her  face.  That  she  spent  the  rest  of  the  ride 
gnawing  at  a  rattan  spiral  ornamenting  the  star 
board  quarter  of  the  baby  carriage  may  have  in 
spired  her  silence,  but  this  the  Wildcat  over 
looked,  attributing  her  obedience  to  the  perfection 
of  her  training. 

For  once  in  his  life  the  Wildcat  encountered 
the  supper  hour  filled  with  a  subject  more  impor 
tant  than  rations.  It  was  six  o'clock  when  the 
return  journey  ended,  and  sixty  minutes  of  life 
and  freedom  intervened  between  the  foot-loose 
present  and  the  moment  when,  at  Sis'  Liza's  party, 
his  entanglement  with  the  tall  and  spindlin'  Mag 
nezia  Bunny  would  be  released  to  the  listening 
local  world.  "Don't  crave  me  no  suppeh. 
Craves  to  tell  Demmy, — craves  to  share  my  woe. 
Got  me  a  load  of  grief  too  heavy  fo'  one  boy. 


LILY  197 

Mebbe  Demmy  kin  lift  de  heavy  end  like  he  al 
ways  done.  Demmy !" 

No  voice  answered  him.  "Demmy!  Whah 
at  is  you?" 

Demmy,  at  the  moment,  was  busy  in  the  house. 
The  Wildcat  guessed  the  truth  and  with  a  brief 
order  to  the  mascot  he  walked  out  of  the  wood 
shed  up  the  wide  brick  pathway  to  the  back  steps 
of  the  big  house.  Light  from  the  kitchen  gleamed 
through  the  screened  door. 

Half  afraid  that  some  malignant  turn  of  Lady 
Luck's  hand  might  whisk  his  helper  from  the 
scene  at  this  critical  eleventh  hour,  the  Wildcat 
lifted  his  despairing  gaze  to  the  chair  at  the 
kitchen  table  where  the  sawed-off  Demmy  was 
wont  to  perform  his  prodigious  feats  with  food. 

Demmy  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  chair 
was  empty.  Except  for  the  fat  cook,  kneeling 
before  the  open  oven  of  the  long  range,  there  was 
no  one  in  the  kitchen.  "Whah  Demmy?''  The 
Wildcat's  voice  was  husky  with  despair. 

"Sett in'  de  table.  Whah  you  been?  Git  in 
heah  an'  git  to  work.  Spec'  you  let  de  Gunnel 
eat  alone  without  help.  You  gits  mo'  triflin' 
ev'y  day !  Git  dem  plates  in  de  hot  oven.  Git 
yo'  white  coat  before' — " 

"Woman,  git  plassified.     Lissen  to  whut  I — " 


198  LILY 

The  Wildcat  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
Demmy.  He  broke  off  his  oration  to  the  cook 
and  in  three  steps  was  at  the  side  of  the  diminu 
tive  brunet.  "Demmy,  I'se  in  trouble.  Bad. 
Ain't  no  worse  kind."  His  whisper  rose  to  a 
croak.  "I'se  got  ketched, — like  you  said.  Come 
out  heah  wid  me  whilst  I  tells  you." 

Demmy  sensed  the  emergency  and  the  pair  re 
treated  into  the  night,  followed  by  the  cook's 
loud  statements  of  what  she  aimed  to  do  to  both 
of  them.  "Stay  ca'm,  woman.  Us  comes  back 
in  no  time." 

"  'Less  you  does  I  scalds  you  red  wid  dis 
bilin'  kettle  an'—" 

"Demmy,  don't  lissen  to  dat  woman.  Don't 
neveh  lissen  to  no  woman.  Jes'  like  you  said, — 
de  you-an'-me  talk  begins  at  de  washlady's, — anj 
us  gits  'gaged  to  git  hitched.  Party  to-night  an' 
Magnezia  tells  de  world.  All  come  f 'm  dat  goat. 
Lily  et  me  into  dis  woe.  Preacheh  pufforms  his 
duty  nex'  week, — den  I'se  done !" 

Demmy  was  silent  for  ten  seconds  but  his  twist 
ing  face  was  an  index  of  the  intensity  of  his 
mental  effort.  "Dis  takes  speed,  Wilecat. 
Leave  me  think  some  mo' !" 

Another  forty  seconds  of  brain  work,  with 
closed  eyes. 


LILY  199 

Consecutive  steps  of  the  tentative  solution  were 
ticked  off  on  the  fingers  of  Demmy's  left  hand. 
He  opened  his  eyes.  "Might  work.  Ain't  say  in', 
— sho'  risky  fo'  me.  Seems  like  ev'ything  I  does 
is  risky.  Git  out  of  my  way.  You  keep  dat 
cook  woman  in  de  kitchen  an'  don't  let  her  git 
near  her  own  room  'till  afteh  I  gits  back.  Wait 
de  table  fo'  de  Gunnel.  Meets  you  in  de  wood 
shed  at  eight  o'clock  wid  de  news.  Keep  dat 
cook  in  de  kitchen, — dat's  all." 


CHAPTER   XVI 


THE  Wildcat's  imperfect  service  at  the 
dinner  table  that  night  and  his  various 
sudden  attacks  of  dish-trembles  served  to 
keep  the  cook  in  the  kitchen.  When  the  Wild 
cat  dropped  a  platter  on  which  was  arranged  a 
squad  of  candied  sweet  potatoes  the  cook's  ap 
prehensive  mood  gave  way  to  one  of  undiluted 
abuse.  From  then  on  she  was  too  busy  showering 
down  vitriolic  language  on  the  offender's  bowed 
head  to  think  about  leaving  the  kitchen.  On  the 
part  of  the  victim  he  was  too  far  away  mentally 
to  be  affected  by  anything  the  cook  might  say, 
except  that  now  and  then  at  the  apex  of  her 
eloquent  flights  he  stored  away  a  choice  phrase 
for  use  on  his  mascot  goat  when  the  time  for 
real  language  should  be  ripe. 

In  his  dazed  mind  the  Wildcat  sought  to  follow 
the  course  and  actions  of  the  absent  Demmy, 
striving  to  picture  each  succeeding  phase  of  the 

night's  drama  until  the  curtain  might  fall  with 

200 


LILY  201 

the  crown  of  victory  resting  on  Demmy's  brow. 
But  each  time,  at  the  point  where  Demmy  en 
countered  Mis'  Magnezia  Bunny  the  picture 
faded  and  in  its  stead  was  a  tableau  of  retreat. 
The  retreater  was  the  Wildcat  himself,  closely 
pursued  by  a  galloping  and  skinny  brunet  in 
whose  upraised  hand  waved  a  meat  ax  labelled, 
"Vitus  Marsden,— Rush." 

At  the  meat  ax  stage  he  batted  his  eyes  and 
shook  his  head  in  a  convulsive  attempt  to  clear 
his  brain  of  the  vision  of  disaster.  At  one  of 
these  shaking  points  he  collided  with  the  framing 
of  the  pantry  door  and  spilled  the  candied  sweet 
potatoes.  "Neveh  mind, — dey  ain't  los', — I  eats 
dem  yams!  I  sweeps  up  dem  yams." 

"You  eats  dem  yams!"  Hatred  and  scorn 
sounded  in  the  accented  "you."  "Sweeps  dem 
yams  up,  does  you!"  Bam!  The  Wildcat 
dodged  a  hurled  stovelid,  only  to  encounter  the 
mop-end  of  a  swinging  mop.  "You  eats  mud! 
Git  dis  hot  bread  to  dat  table  befo'  I  loses  my 
temper  an'  kills  me  a  damn  fumblin'  fool." 

"I'se  gwine!  Yassum!"  Through  the  cra 
ven's  mind  flitted  the  thought  that  unless  the 
night  marked  Demmy's  success  all  of  the  future 
would  be  one  long  business  of  dodging  stovelids. 
The  thought  tamed  him.  Bitter  replies  were 


202  LILY 

choked  down  before  they  were  uttered.  For  the 
time  being,  where  normally  he  might  have  ex 
changed  compliments,  he  was  lamb-like  and 
humble  to  a  degree  that  threatened  the  master 
ful  control  and  fireside  prestige  which  he  had 
established  in  the  home  circle/' 

"I'se  hus'lin',  honey.     Gimme  dat  bread!" 

"Don't  honey  me!  Git  goin'  befo'  I  knocks 
you  loose  f'm  yo'  gizzard." 

"Yass-um!     I  is." 

He  was,  and  while  the  Wildcat  was  ambling 
along  three  jumps  ahead  of  the  cook's  slightest 
wish,  Demmy  was  running  a  personal  race  with 
Old  Man  Trouble. 


Before  he  had  left  the  Fairfield  house  Demmy 
executed  a  quick  piece  of  prowling  and  emerged 
from  the  room  which  was  normally  occupied  by 
the  cook,  carrying  under  each  arm  a  loose  and 
obstinate  bundle  of  feminine  raiment.  In  the 
sanctuary  of  the  dark  woodshed  he  laid  down  his 
bundles.  Then,  startled  by  a  slight  noise  in  the 
far  corner  of  his  retreat,  he  turned  to  face  a  pair 
of  phosphorescent  green  eyes.  "Whuff!"  He 
controlled  his  feet.  "Lawd,  Lily, — when  I  gits 


LILY  203 

back  I  beats  you  to  death  fo'  lookin'  like  a  ghost. 
How  come  yo'  eyes  so  green !" 

Lily  answered  with  an  apology  for  her  resem 
blance  to  a  ghost,  but  Demmy,  busy  with  a  lan 
tern,  was  suddenly  deaf  to  the  goat's  explanations. 
Just  then  more  serious  business  than  listening  to 
a  goat  filled  his  mind.  In  the  dim  light  of  the 
lantern  he  stooped  and  picked  up  a  bright  yellow 
waist  adorned  with  diagonal  black  stripes.  A 
voluminous  checked  skirt  gaudy  with  squares  of 
purple  and  orange  came  next,  followed  by  a  wide 
and  drooping  felt  hat  from  which  exploded  a 
pair  of  massive  red  plumes  the  like  of  which  no 
modest  ostrich  could  have  endured.  A  yellow 
veil,  netted  in  the  open  spaces  between  a  pattern 
of  sprawling  purple  spiders, — and  finally  a  wide 
blue  sash.  Demmy  lashed  the  sash  about  his 
waist,  looping  wide  folds  of  the  flowing  skirt 
under  the  sash,  and  tied  it  in  place  with  a  square 
knot  that  supported  a  butterfly  finish  as  big  as  a 
dishpan.  "Sho*  is  awkward!  Feels  like  a  fish 


in  a  net." 


Without  fully  realizing  it  at  the  moment,  but 
laboring  under  a  suspicion  which  approximated 
the  truth,  Demmy  resembled  a  fish  in  a  net  as 
closely  as  anything  could  that  did  not  have  fins 
and  gills. 


204  LILY 

About  the  fish's  form  was  draped  a  ponderous 
plush  cloak.  Then,  into  the  night  and  forward 
to  the  battlefield !  The  sawed-off  hero  blew  out 
the  lantern,  showered  down  a  parting  curse  on 
Lily,  and  was  on  his  way. 


A  sound  of  revelry  by  seven  o'clock  at  Sis' 
Eliza's  house.  A  trombone  acrobat  on  a  dais 
of  soap  boxes  to  give  him  arm-room  on  the  long 
notes,  a  hyena  saxophone,  a  demon  drummer  boy 
who  had  trained  over  a  hamburger  steak  chop- 
ping-block,  a  foot-patting  fiddler  who  could  drink 
his  likker  in  action  without  missing  a  note,  and 
in  a  room  sixteen  by  twenty,  milling  about  the 
flowing  punch-pan,  dancing  without  visible  foot 
movement  and  perspiring  freely,  forty  of  the 
shaded  elite  of  Vicksburg. 

Head  and  shoulders  above  the  milling  mob, 
stepping  fancy  from  the  knees  up,  Mis'  Magnezia 
Bunny  maintained  a  strategic  position  against  the 
inner  wall  whence  she  could  observe  the  front 
door  and  the  entrance  of  all  comers.  A  knock 
at  the  door,  distinct  under  the  Mournin'  Blues, 
and  the  announcer's  voice,  baying  high  above  the 
music.  "Mist'  Punic  Brawley  an'  his  manager!" 


LILY  205 

Mist'  Brawley,  followed  by  his  wife,  plowed 
his  way  through  the  press  in  the  wake  of  his 
hostess  and  halted  in  front  of  a  wide  tin  dishpan 
filled  with  Sis'  Eliza  gin.  "Whuff  yo'se'f  an' 
git  tromplin'."  Having  thus  discharged  her 
social  obligation  for  the  moment  Sis'  Eliza  re 
sumed  her  hitching  gyrations  with  her  dancing 
partner,  moaning  meanwhile  the  words  of  the 
Mournin'  Blues. 

Neveh  made  a  dollar  dat  you  didn't  git  half, 
Neveh  rolled  a  seven  'cept  I  rolled  it  fo'  you, 
Neveh  did  no  grievin'  when  you  wanted  to  laugh, 
Neveh  done  no  laughin'  when  my  honey  felt  blue. 

My  honey  felt  blue  when  de  big  judge  said: 
"Save  him  from  sunstroke  an'  park  him  in  jail, 
Black  an'  white  raiment  an'  shave  de  boy's  head — 
Kiss  him  farewell — you  kin  reach  him  by  mail." 

Reach  him  by  mail  wid  a  letter, 
Reach  him  by  mail  wid  de  news ; 
Done  mournin', — now  I  feels  better, 
I's  done  wid  dem  Lone  Mournin'  Blue*. 

Another  knock  at  the  door  and  over  near  the 
wall  the  expectant  Mis'  Magnesia  slowed  down 
to  a  following  drag,  trailing  now  where  she 
had  trembled  the  lead  half  a  note  ahead  of  the 
drum.  "Spec' dat's  him!" 


206  LILY 

"Who  you  spec"?" 

"Confidential  I  tells  you, — quit  dat  close 
weavin', — 'let  me  reach  you  by  mail  wid  de  news,' 
— I  spec'  it's  my  new  financee." 

"Is  you  done  wid  dem  lone  mournin'  blues'?" 

"I  is,  man,  an'  now  I  feels  better.  I'se  aban 
doned  dem  lone  mournin'  blues." 

Bam!  The  music  died  an  explosive  death. 
The  outer  door  opened.  To  the  announcer's  ears 
from  the  shadowed  doorway  came  a  high  pitched 
falsetto  voice.  "Evenin', — is  dis  de  whah'bouts 
of  dis  Sis'  Eliza  ruckus'?" 

"Sho  is.     Trail  in   an'   leave  me   speak  yo' 


name." 


A  sawed-off  figure,  veiled  and  cloaked,  entered 
the  room.  "I'se  Missus  Vitus  Marsden.  My 
husban', — de  Wilecat, — is  temp'rarily  retained  at 
Gunnel  Fail-field's  house." 

"Yo'  whut!"  In  the  sudden  calm  the  voice 
of  Magnezia  Bunny  snapped  like  the  thin  end 
of  a  blacksnake  whip.  "Yo'  who  husban"? 
Woman,  whut  dis  talk4?" 

The  veiled  stranger  ploughed  half  way  into 
the  mass  of  perspiring  dancers  to  meet  the  en 
raged  Magnezia.  "I  sez  my  husban' — Vitus 
Marsden  whut  folks  calls  Wilecat!  Sez  me! 
How  come  you  so  cravin'  to  know*?" 


LILY  207 

"I  shows  you  how  come."  Without  any  pre 
liminary  gesture  the  swing  of  Megnezia  Bunny's 
heavy  hand  launched  straight  for  the  side  of 
the  veiled  figure's  head. 

Bam!  The  sawed-off  one  staggered  a  little 
and  swelled  up  under  the  draperies  in  time  to 
stop  a  swinging  left.  "I  learns  you  an'  dat' 
heart-breakin'  houn' !" 

The  skinny  panther  was  upon  the  cloaked 
figure,  and  in  an  impromptu  circle  of  pop-eyed 
bystanders,  a  battle  was  staged  with  all  the 
flurry  and  madness  of  an  overdue  cyclone.  For 
a  long  thirty  seconds  the  little  combatant  endured 
the  flailing  punishment  meted  out  by  the  spin 
dling  Magnezia  and  then,  with  a  quick  burst  of 
unexpected  energy,  the  tall  member  of  the  team 
found  herself  lifted  head  first  over  the  surging 
shoulders  of  "Missus  Vitus  Marsden." 

Five  feet  above  the  floor,  helpless  and  writh 
ing,  Mis'  Magnezia  poised  for  three  seconds  be 
fore  she  began  her  descent.  She  came  down, 
aided  and  abetted  by  two  strong  arms,  and  her 
course  was  the  diving  course  of  an  arrow,  aimed 
at  the  starboard  end  of  the  paralyzed  orchestra. 
Bam!  Head  first  into  the  tight  parchment  of 
the  drum-head.  A  quick  recovery  and  Magnezia 
stood  erect,  weaving  a  little,  but  with  her  head 


208  LILY 

still  crowned  and  concealed  within  the  interior 
of  the  drum.  "Git  me  out!  Take  dat  off  my 
haid!  Un-loose  me !" 

Fumbling  hands  unloosed  the  captive.  In  her 
sudden  freedom  she  looked  about  for  her  op 
ponent. 

The  veiled  Missus  Vitus  Marsden,  taking  ad 
vantage  of  the  moment  when  Mis'  Magnezia 
Bunny's  predicament  had  attracted  all  eyes  to 
ward  that  drum-diver,  had  vanished  into  the 
night. 

Various  nerveless  whuffers  clustered  around  the 
tin  dishpan  absorbing  quick  slugs  of  Sis'  Eliza's 
nerve  tonic. 

The  drummer  inverted  his  instrument  and 
tightened  the  snares  on  the  one  uninjured  drum 
head. 

"Kiss  him  farewell,  you  kin  reach  him  by  mail — 
Jes'  begiimin'  dem  Lone  Mournin'  Blues." 


CHAPTER   XVII 


AT  four  minutes  to  eight,  through  the 
shadows  of  the  alley  back  of  the  Fair- 
field  house,  stepping  fast,  came  "Missus 
Vitus  Marsden,"  champion  of  the  night's  battle. 
In  the  obscurity  of  the  high  board  fence  that 
lined  the  dark  side  of  the  alley  the  figure  reefed 
a  double  handful  of  flowing  draperies  and  in  this 
new  freedom  the  marching  pace  was  accelerated 
to  a  trot.  Opposite  the  door  of  the  Fairfield 
woodshed  the  rambler's  raiment  again  swung  free 
and  his  fumbling  hand  reached  for  the  latch  of 
the  door. 

"Blaa-a !"  Lily,  enjoying  the  rubber  flavored 
canvas  of  an  old  but  luscious  tennis  shoe,  ex 
pressed  her  surprise  at  the  sudden  invasion  of 
her  sanctuary. 

Out  of  the  darkness  came  a  reply  to  Lily's 
startled  bleating.  "Shut  up,  goat,  befo'  I  knots 
yo'neck!" 

209 


210  LILY 

The  invader  spoke,  and  where  "Missus  Mars- 
den's,"  voice  had  been  a  high  falsetto  at  Sis'  El 
iza's  dance,  now  it  was  the  voice  of  Demmy.  The 
diminutive  masquerader  struck  a  match  and  with 
it  he  lighted  the  lantern  hanging  against  the  wall. 
Two  minutes  of  fast  work  sufficed  to  free  him 
of  his  borrowed  costume.  He  rolled  his  dra 
peries  this  time  into  one  large  bundle  and  carrying 
it  before  him  he  marched  toward  the  rectangle 
of  light  that  marked  the  kitchen  door. 

Arrived  at  the  door  he  kicked  gently  against 
the  lower  panel  of  the  screen.  From  within  the 
Wildcat  answered.  "Who  dat?" 

"Dis  Demmy." 

The  Wildcat  addressed  the  cook.  "Go  on 
'long  into  de  dinin'  room,  honey,  an'  see  is  I 
swept  things  right.  Craves  to  'range  eve'y thing 
to  please  you  an'  ol'  Gunnel." 

The  cook  obeyed,  and  while  she  was  absent 
from  the  kitchen  the  Wildcat  opened  the  door  to 
his  laden  associate.  "Lawd,  Demmy,  how  come 
you  has  de  nose  bleed*?" 

"Stumbled  against  OP  Man  Trouble.  Don't 
stop  me.  Got  to  git  dese  clo'es  back."  Straight 
for  the  cook's  room  with  the  borrowed  costume 
walked  OP  Man  Trouble's  associate,  to  return 


LILY  211 

three  minutes  later  to  where  the  Wildcat  waited 
for  the  verdict. 

"Come  wid  me  to  de  woodshedL  Us  talks 
free  f m  folks  listenin'." 

Trailing  his  guide  the  Wildcat  gained  the 
woodshed  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  "Is 
I  free  T  He  held  his  breath. 

"You  is, — 'ceptin'  f'm  yo'  'maginary  fust  wife. 
Dat  Magnezia  woman  don't  aim  to  create  no 
big' my.  Single,  double  an'  trouble, — you  went 
through  dem  three  stages  an'  now  you  begins 
single  again." 

With  a  haste  not  explained  in  his  words 
Demmy  sketched  the  process  by  which  he  had 
freed  the  Wildcat  of  his  bonds.  "Dey  thinks 
you  is  married, — all  you  does  is  'nounce  de  divo'ce 
an'  stagger  along  thankin'  Lady  Luck  dat  you 
missed  either  a  weddin'  o'  else  a  break-yo'-promise 
ruckus.  Dat's  all, — I'se  gwine  now." 

"Demmy,  doggone!  I'se  saved  again!"  The 
Wildcat  breathed  deep  and  then  sought  to  pro 
long  the  recital  of  the  message  of  salvation. 
"Whah  you  gwine, — ain't  you  headin'  fo'  de 
kitchen?  Dey's  some  ham  cut  an'  de  gravy  is 
on  de  stove." 

"Too  busy  to  eat, — sees  you  afteh  while." 


212  LILY 

Demmy  launched  away  on  his  second  project 
of  the  night. 

Sis'  Eliza's  party  disintegrated  at  eleven 
o'clock.  Mis'  Magnezia  Bunny  not  unaccom 
panied,  reached  her  own  yaller-door  domicile  at 
twenty  minutes  after  eleven.  Her  escort  lin 
gered  at  the  door  until  the  clock  inside  the  house 
struck  three, — and  out. 

At  half-past  three  in  the  morning  the  Wild 
cat  was  awakened  by  Demmy's  heavy  hand. 
"Rouse  up!  I'se  got  mo'  news  to  tell  you.  I 
been  back  at  de  party, — open-faced  dis  time. 
Meets  up  wid  yo'  late  financee.  Fust  time  I  seed 
dat  woman  my  heart  flopped.  Dis  time, — Wile- 
cat,  when  my  love  eye  landed  on  dat  tall  Venus, 
I  falls!  Tol'  her  so.  Me  an'  her  uses  dat 
hitchin'  preacheh  nex'  Monday.  Come  to  de 
weddin'  an'  bring  dat  Lily  whut's  de  cause  of 
it  all.  You  is  named  de  bes'  man!" 

"Demmy,  is  I  dreamin"?  Does  you  remem 
ber  whut  you  said  'bout  single  an'  double 
trouble?'  The  Wildcat  batted  his  incredu 
lous  eyes.  "You  is  crazy!" 

"I  is — wid  de  love  itch.  Git  to  sleep.  Git 
dreamin'  like  I  does, — true-comin',  happy 
dreams." 

"Huh!"     The  Wildcat  grunted  his  comment. 


I  LILY  213 

"You  ain't  dreamin', — you  is  delirious  above 
de  ears  an'  plain  bilious  mule  below.  Sun-up 
you  begins  to  bray." 

The  critic  lay  awake  for  ten  minutes  there 
after.  "Craves  to  have  me  be  bes'  man!  I'se 
de  bes'  man — shows  dat  mule  who  is  de  bes' 
man  befo'  he  gits  hitched  up.  Lady  Luck,  rally 
roun'.  Us  needs  you  bad." 


On  the  day  following  the  Wildcat's  rescue 
from  the  noose  of  matrimony  he  began  an  ardent 
campaign  of  verbal  first-aid  for  the  luckless 
Demmy. 

"Naw  suh,  Wilecat,  de  love  fire  was  sot 
blazin'  an'  de  flames  of  love  is  got  me  red  hot." 

"Whut  you  mean  flame  of  love?"  The 
Wildcat  snorted  his  disgust.  "Demmy,  you  gits 
yo'  pinfeathers  scorched  wid  dis  flame  of  love 
bizness  befo'  you  wakes  up.  I  advises  you, 
whilst—" 

"Don't  crave  no  advice.  All  I  craves  is  dem 
lavendeh  pants  you  got.  Don't  want  no  advice, 
— my  mind  is  set." 

"You  ain't  got  no  mind.  Ain't  had  none  since 
you  seen  dat  Magnezia  Bunny.  Yo'  mind  got 


214  LILY 

shattered  in  de  collision  when  you  meets  dat 
woman.  As  yo'  friend  I  advises, — " 

"Wilecat,  fo'  de  las'  time  I  tells  you  I  don't 
crave"  no  advice.  All  I  craves  is  dem  festival 
pants." 

"Demmy,  wuz  you  mah  len'th  in  de  laig  you 
could  have  'em,  an'  welcome.  Us  cuts  de  laigs 
off  dem  blue  pants  and  you  'dorns  yo'se'f  noble, 
but  de  lavendeh  ones  is  pussonal.  Cuttin'  off 
is  diff'runt  f'm  lendin'  'em.  Afteh  de  laigs  is 
cut  off  kin  dey  be  cut  back  on?  Naw;  suh! 
Kaint  cut  laigs  back  on  social  pants  no  mo'  dan 
you  kin  cut  a  chicken's  neck  back  afteh  de  ax  is 
done  its  duty.  Understan'  me,  Demmy,  wuz 
dey  workin'  pants,  dat's  diff'runt,  but  dem  lav 
endeh  pants  is  all  de  elect  pants  I'se  got.  You 
sees  how  it  is*?" 

"I  sees.  Cut  de  blue  pants.  I'se  too  flustered 
to  counterback  you  or  militate  against  yo'  ver- 
dick." 

"You  is  too  which  against  whut*?  How 
come  you  so  puffed  wid  words?" 

"Needs  persuadin'  lang'wige  in  dis  battle  wid 
Magnezia." 

"Bullhead,  you  needs  mo'  dan  persuadin'  lang 
'wige  to  git  you  loose.  Heah's  de  blue  pants. 
Hold  'em  'longside  of  you  whilst  I  gits  de 


LILY  215 

measure.  Dere!  Right  whah  dat  mud  spot  is. 
Stretch  'em  oveh  dis  choppin'  block." 

The  blue  pants  were  laid  on  the  altar  of  friend 
ship  and  with  a  dull  hatchet  the  Wildcat  sacri 
ficed  a  foot  of  their  leg  fabric.  "Whah  at  dat 
needle  an'  thread?  Baste  dat  seam  on  de  in 
side.  You  knows  how  to  sew*?  If  you  don't 
you  betteh  learn.  Dat  woman  have  you  sewin' 
an'  keepin'  house  befo'  you  knows  it.  I  bet  you 
makes  a  good  wife  befo'  she's  done  wid  you. 
Poor  li'l  Demmy, — befo'  long  'less  something  hap 
pens  you  knows  how  it  feels  to  be  in  jail  wid  de 
key  lost." 

From  an  obscure  corner  of  the  woodshed  Lily, 
the  mascot  goat,  who  had  been  an  observer  of 
Demmy's  frantic  preparation  for  his  call  on  Mis' 
Magnezia  Bunny,  echoed  the  Wildcat's  com 
ment.  "Blaa-a!" 

The  Wildcat  turned  to  his  mascot.  "Dat's 
right,  Lily,  you  knows  whut  us  sez  is  de  truth." 

"Whut  dat  goat  know  'bout  de  truth?  Dat 
mascot  don't  know  nuthin'  'bout  humans  and 
madrimony." 

"Mebbe  Lily  don't  know  nuthin'  'bout  hu 
mans  gittin'  hitched,  but,  Demmy,  us  tells  you 
one  thing, — does  you  stay  bull-headed  dis  way 
till  Monday  and  does  you  git  hitched  like  you 


216  LILY 

threatens,  you  understands  goat  talk  f  m  den  on. 
In  dis  weddin'  wid  Magnezia  Bunny  you  is  de 
goat.  Hitch  dem  pants  up  some  mo' !  Dey's 
all  right  fo'  strollin'  pu'poses  but  something 
might  fall  on  yo'  haid  an'  resto'  yo'  mind.  In  yo' 
retreat  easy  gallopin'  pants  might  be  handy." 

The  Wildcat  fumbled  around  in  a  corner  of 
the  woodshed.  "Heah's  dis  yaller  necktie,  fool. 
Dah  you  is!  Dolled  up  fo'  de  sack'fice!  On 
yo'  way.  Does  you  fall  dead  befo'  you  'rives 
it  means  Lady  Luck  has  booned  you." 

Encouraged  by  this  final  comment  from  the 
Wildcat  and  an  inquisitive  bleat  from  Lily,  the 
sawed-off  Romeo  was  on  his  way  down  the  alley 
back  of  the  Fairfield  residence,  heading  toward 
the  house  where  the  object  of  love's  young  dream 
stood  submerged  to  her  elbows  in  a  wash-tub 
full  of  steaming  clothes. 

About  the  time  Demmy  left  the  woodshed 
Mis'  Bunny  reflected  that  a  good  hand  at  the 
wringer  would  be  worth  his  board  and  lodging. 

To  this  fate  over  a  primrose  trail  marched 
Demmy. 

3 

Hope,  springing  eternal  in  the  heart  of  Mis* 


LILY  217 

Magnezia  Bunny,  led  her  to  believe  that  some 
where  in  the  future  she  would  encounter  a  third 
husband.  The  French  Jaundry  business,  con 
sisting  of  a  wash-tub,  a  wringer,  and  plenty  of 
hard  work,  brought  her  an  income  that  justified 
the  luxury  of  a  husband  no  matter  how  trifling 
he  might  be. 

Mis'  Bunny's  first  mate  had  been  worked  to 
death  at  a  job  which  his  wife  had  engineered. 
She  had  convinced  him  that  his  health  and 
strength  depended  on  his  abandoning  lodge  meet 
ings,  riotous  nights  at  the  Fish  House  and  other 
diversions  of  a  social  nature.  He  went  to  work 
in  preference  to  having  his  wife  pound  his  head 
off  with  the  ever-present  handle  of  her  clothes- 
wringer. 

The  second  victim  had  sought  escape  from  the 
love  net  by  means  of  a  rented  mule  which  he  had 
been  careless  enough  to  retain  for  his  personal 
property  after  his  flight  into  Arkansas  had  been 
accomplished.  The  kidnapped  mule  had  been 
returned  to  its  master  but  the  kidnapper,  plead 
ing  cruel  and  unusual  punishment,  had  avoided 
a  similar  fate  and  had  landed  safely,  with  the 
assistance  of  counsel,  in  the  sanctuary  of  a  per 
manent  looking  penitentiary. 

To  Mis'  Bunny  a  husband  in  the  penitentiary 


218  LILY 

was  as  real  as  the  angels  in  heaven.  "Might 
see  him  some  day  mebbe,  but  to  my  mind  when 
dey  secludes  a  boy  in  de  stone  house  he  ain't 
no  mo'  husban'  aft  eh  dat  dan  a  ghost  is  yo'  gran'- 
pap." 

Into  the  grazing  range  of  this  hungry  heart  had 
blundered  the  Wildcat.  Save  for  his  mascot  goat 
he  might  have  struggled  out  of  the  net,  but  when 
Lily,  unattended  for  half  an  hour,  gorged  her 
self  on  a  cubic  foot  of  silk  and  lace  drying  in 
Mis'  Bunny's  backyard,  the  spider  figured  that 
here  was  a  good  argument  to  use  in  convincing 
the  fly  that  it  would  be  easier  to  pay  for  the 
destruction  by  working  it  out  for  a  wife  than 
by  any  other  means. 

From  his  impending  union  the  Wildcat  had 
been  rescued  by  Demmy,  masquerading  as  the 
Wildcat's  unknown  wife.  The  scheme  worked 
perfectly  except  that  it  left  Demmy  in  love  with 
•Mis'  Bunny  and  enjoying  mental  status  midway 
between  love's  young  dream  and  delirium  tre- 
mens.  In  the  publicity  attending  his  disappoint 
ment  Mis'  Bunny  had  clutched  at  Demmy, 
figuring  that  he  would  serve  as  a  face-saving 
mask  for  her  chagrin. 

Demmy  had  walked  into  the  trap.  The 
hitching  ceremony  was  scheduled  for  the  follow- 


LILY  219 

ing  Monday,  and  between  single  blessedness  and 
double  trouble  but  six  days  intervened. 

Back  of  Colonel  Fairfield's  woodshed,  while 
Demmy  was  making  his  afternoon  call  on  his 
fiancee,  the  Wildcat,  busy  with  the  kindling 
hatchet,  told  the  mascot  goat  all  about  it  and 
sought  means  of  saving  his  sawed-off  companion 
from  Mis'  Bunny's  clutches.  "  'Less  lightnin' 
hits  dat  boy  it  looks  like  he's  a  goner.  Saved 
me  but  went  plumb  crazy.  Sees  him  to-night 
and  mebbe  three  or  fo'  mo'  nights,  den  goodbye 
Demmy.  He  comes  back  to-night.  Boun'  to 
show  up  fo'  suppeh.  'Less  us  saves  him  dat 
boy's  lost  in  de  high  cane  wid  dat  ol'  love  bear 
gallopin'  'long  on  his  track." 

"Blaa-a!"     Lily  agreed  to  everything. 

True  to  the  Wildcat's  prediction,  at  six 
o'clock  Demmy  showed  up  bulging  with  a  de 
sire  to  relate  a  long  string  of  the  experiences 
incident  to  his  courtship. 

"Demmy,  don't  tell  me  no  mo'.  I  don't  want 
to  know  nuthin'  'bout  you  an'  yo'  battle  wid 
OP  Man  Trouble.  When  you  says  you  wuz 
happy  hangin'  out  de  clo'es  fo'  dat  woman  you 
says  it  all.  When  does  you  aim  to  repeat?" 

"Aims  to  see  Magnezia  wid  my  love  eye  at  de 


same  time  to-morr'." 


220  LILY 

"An*  Monday  you  gits  de  blind  staggehs  fo' 
life.  Whut  dat  smell  you  got  on  you?" 

"Wilecat,  I  'dorns  myse'f  wid  de  musk  smell. 
Bought  me  a  two-bit  bottle.  Figgered  it'd  las' 
f'm  now  'till  Monday.  Afteh  dat  .  .  ." 

"Afteh  dat  de  mo'  smells  you  leaves  off  de 
less  de  bloodhoun's  kin  trail  you.  Come  on 
heah.  I  smells  de  suppeh  cookin'.  Betteh  eat 
whilst  you  kin  git  it.  Afteh  you  enlists  in  de 
Bunny  ahmy  de  chances  is  yo'  nutriments  is  few 
an'  far  between.  Come  on  wid  me." 

As  the  pair  prepared  to  leave  the  woodshed  the 
Wildcat  turned  to  the  mascot  goat.  "Lily,  whut 
you  think  of  dis  boy-sized  love  demon?  Built 
boy-size  fo'  raiment,  but  a  whale  size  fool  wid 
wimmin.  Come  'long,  fool,  whilst  us  'vestigates 
dem  rations  whut  Lady  Luck  showered  down." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 


ON  the  following  afternoon,  adorned  with 
the  Wildcat's  yellow  necktie,  his  ab 
breviated  blue  pants  and  a  gaudy  shirt 
discarded  by  Colonel  Fairfield,  Demmy  soused 
himself  with  musk  and  retraced  the  trail  to  Mis' 
Bunny's  house. 

At  six  o'clock  he  returned  to  the  woodshed  to 
face  another  inquisition  at  the  Wildcat's  hands. 
"Hangin'  out  mo'  clo'es  I  suppose.  Say  it  wid 
work.  How  come  she  leaves  you  loose  f'm  de 
treadmill  so  early  ?" 

"Didn't  hang  no  clo'es.  Hung  out  clo'es  yester 
day." 

Something  in  Demmy's  tone  prompted  the 
Wildcat  to  ask  another  leading  question.  "Don't 
tell  me  you  jes'  hung  'round  an'  visited.  Whut 
brand  of  slavery  wuz  you  'flicted  wid  to-day. 
De  truth  is  mighty  an'  must  be  veiled." 

Demmy,  cornered,  admitted  that  the  afternoon 
221 


222  LILY 

had  not  been  one  of  idleness.  "All  I  done  was 
grind  the  handle  on  dat  li'l  ol}  clo'es  wringer. 
Mis'  Bunny  done  de  heavy  work.  Couldn't  set 
doin'  nuthin'." 

"She's  gittin'  you  gentle.  Aims  not  to  break 
yo'  spirit  wid  no  hard  labor.  Mind  whut  I  tells 
you,  Demmy.  Wuz  hard  work  a  zephyr  you 
makes  a  cyclone  finish  befo'  dat  woman  gits  you 
trained." 

Returning  to  the  confessional  after  his  third 
visit  an  element  of  doubt  had  developed  in 
Demmy's  mind  inspired  by  events  which  closely 
approximated  the  Wildcat's  prediction.  "Con 
fidential  I  tells  you,  Wilecat,  dis  aftehnoon  I 
helped  wash." 

"Whut  I  tell  you!  Dat  woman  give  you  de 
soopreem  degree  in  de  love  lodge  fo'  days  afteh 
you  gits  'nitiated.  Hangin'  out  first  day,  wringin' 
second  day,  third  day  up  to  yo'  el-bones  in  de 
washtub.  To-morr'  you  gits  promoted.  Chances 
is  f'm  now  on  she  makes  you  overseer.  You 
sees  oveh  de  edge  of  de  washtub  an'  if  you  looks 
hard  you  sees  yo'  finish.  Jes'  as  soon  as  you 
gits  hitched  dat  woman  lets  you  do  all  de  light 
work  whilst  she  does  de  heavy  runnin'  round'.'1 

"Run  roun'  some  to-day.  Done  some  visitin' 
whilst  I  handled  dat  jag  o'  washin'." 


LILY  223 

"Whut  I  tell  you!  How  does  folks  perdick*? 
'Spose  a  boss  runs  a  mile  in  fo'  minutes  to-day 
an'  he  runs  a  mile  in  five  minutes  to-morr', — if 
you  sees  ahead  far  'nuf  you  knows  some  day 
the  hoss  ain't  neveh  gwine  to  finish  de  mile. 
Same  wid  rations.  Take  soup.  You  starts 
gentle  wid  two  bowls  of  soup  de  fust  day.  You 
trains  'till  you  kin  eat  fo'  bowls.  Pretty  soon 
you  kin  eat  all  de  soup  whut  is.  You  knows 
how  it  is  wid  likker.  Takes  yo'  fust  drink  when 
you'se  a  boy.  Gits  so  you  kin  handle  de  bottle 
when  you  grows  up.  Bime-bye  likker  don't  mean 
nuthin'  'less  you'se  had  two  or  three  bottles  to 
begin  wid.  Naw,  suh,  Demmy,  you  faces  a  life 
sentence  at  hard  labor  an'  yo'  jail  mate  is  OF 
Man  Trouble." 

Demmy 's  face  drooped  with  the  lines  of  his 
farewell  to  Lady  Luck.  "Don't  tell  me  no  mo', 
Wilecat,  dey  ain't  nuthin'  I  kin  do." 

"Dey's  one  thing  you  kin  do  whilst  you  has 
de  chance.  Cook's  got  some  okra  soup.  Git  up 
to  de  kitchen  an'  'sorb  yo'  soup  whilst  de  rations 
come  easy.  I'se  et.  Face  de  soup  an'  splash 
yo'se'f  whilst  me  an'  Lily  holds  dis  lodge  of 
sorrow  and  sees  kin  us  think." 

A  moment  later  Demmy  left  his  two  com- 


224  LILY 

panions  and  prowled  toward  the  kitchen  in  search 
of  a  comforting  ration  of  okra  soup. 

In  the  woodshed,  while  Demmy  was  absent, 
the  Wildcat  reviewed  the  various  elements  of 
the  problem  which  confronted  him.  He  talked 
it  over  with  the  mascot  goat.  "Lily,  dis  is 
Thursday  night.  'Less  us  does  something  ol' 
Demmy  gits  lost  to  human  view  on  Mon 
day."  ' 

"Blaa-a!"  Lily  confessed  that  she  saw  no 
way  out  of  the  embrace  of  OP  Man  Trou 
ble. 

"You  an'  me  both.  Well,  when  Lady  Luck 
goes  A.  W.  O.  L.  dey's  jes'  one  thing  left  to  do 
an'  dat  is  to  tell  de  white  folks.  Ol'  Gunnel 
Fairfield  kin  konker  anything.  Dat  boy  kin 
'range  Demmy  loose  f'm  dis  Bunny  varmint 
wid  one  hand  an'  smoke  a  see-gar  wid  de  otheh 
at  de  same  time.  To-morr'  us  sees  de  Gunnel. 
Sees  him  right  af teh  brekfus'  bef o'  he  goes  down 
town." 

Upon  Demmy's  reappearance  he  was  greeted 
with  a  message  in  which  he  detected  an  opti 
mism  which  he  could  not  share. 

"OP  Gunnel  sho'  is  a  noble  'ranger,  but  dis  is 
beyond  him." 

"Nuthin'    beyond   dat   boy.     Main   thing   is 


LILY  225 

to  git  him  goin'.  Git  yo'  hat.  Come  on  down 
to  de  Fish  House.  Us  'filiates  some  whilst  you 
is  free/7 

Into  the  night  toward  the  Fish  House  prowled 
the  Wildcat  and  Demmy.  "You  betteh  take  de 
clickers  out  fo'  a  gallop,"  the  Wildcat  advised. 
"Wid  so  much  hard  luck  in  yo'  love  affair  de 
chances  is  wid  de  gallopers  you  kin  clean  up 
big." 

"Wilecat,  I  don't  feel  de  luck  ragin'  to-night." 
"Suit   yo'self.     You   is   de  uncrowned   king. 
Afteh  Monday  you  is  de  dooce  wid  dis  Bunny 
woman  queen  high  in  de  home  deck." 


Serving  at  Colonel  Fairfield's  table  on  Friday 
morning  the  Wildcat  tempted  his  white-folks  with 
a  third  waffle.  He  laid  his  plans  carefully.  "De 
minnit  I  leaves  wid  de  second  waffle  you  git 
anotheh  one  ready,"  he  admonished  the  cook. 
"De  big  man's  gittin'  skinny.  Two  waffles  ain't 
nuthin'.  You  gits  dat  next  one  ready  and  I 
makes  him  eat  it.  Fust  thing  you  knows  he 
starts  dwindlin'." 

At  the  breakfast  table  when  the  Colonel  showed 
signs  of  slacking  up  in  the  middle  of  his  second 
waffle  the  Wildcat  was  on  the  job  with  a  third 


226  LILY 

confection,  brown  and  crisped  on  the  surface  and 
hot  from  the  iron. 

"Gunnel,  suh,  give  me  dat  ol'  waffle.  Here's 
a  special  hot  one  built  de  way  you  likes  it.  ToP 
dat  cook  dem  white  edges  neveh  wuz  pop'leh. 
Kaint  learn  dat  woman  nuthin'."  The  Wildcat 
forced  the  card  and  before  the  Colonel  knew  it 
he  was  well  on  his  way  into  the  third  waffle. 
For  a  half -consumed  second  cup  of  coffee  the 
Wildcat  substituted  a  third  cup.  The  cup  it 
self  had  been  heated  so  that  its  contents  would 
stay  too  hot  for  immediate  use. 

Into  the  five-minute  opportunity  the  Wildcat 
plunged  with  a  statement  of  Demmy's  troubles. 
"Gunnel,  suh,  dis  Demmy  gits  himself  bogged 
down  wid  grief.  Been  pinin'  all  day  yisterday 
wid  his  load  of  mis'ry  an'  woe.  I  tells  him, — 
'Demmy,  you  ain't  got  no  trouble.  You  don't 
know  whut  trouble  is.  Trouble  is  like  you  is 
now  widout  havin'  de  Gunnel  to  'range  you  free.' 
Gunnel  Fairfield,  suh,  dat  boy  don't  know  yet 
how  good  a  'ranger  you  is." 

The  Colonel,  being  human,  rose  to  the  bait. 
"Gambling  house  raid*?" 

"Gunnel,  naw,  suh!  Boy  don't  gamble. 
Spends  his  spare  time  readin'  de  Book.  Wras- 
seled  himself  free  f'm  sin  long  time  back." 


LILY  227 

"Ruckus?" 

"Naw  suh, — not  in  de  full  meanin'.  Demmy's 
took  bad  wid  love.  Spin'lin'  wash  woman  dey 
calls  Magnezia  Bunny  lands  on  Demmy  wid  de 
love-eye.  Demmy  withers  and  clings  like  a  oP 
grape  vine.  Dat  woman  ain't  lookin'  for  no 
husban'.  All  she  craves  is  a  slave.  Had 
Demmy  wash  in'  clo'es  all  day  yesterday.  Done 
used  up  two  men, — fust  one  killed  off  wid  work 
an'  de  second  one  retains  hisself  a  mule  so  de 
judge  retreats  him  to  de  penitentiary. 

"How  long  is  he  in  for'?" 

"Gunnel,  suh,  I  don't  jes'  know.  He's  in  dis 
close-by  jail  place.  Name  Bunny.  Thought 
mebbe  you  could  send  Demmy  down  de  riveh  to 
yo'  farm  'till  afteh  dis  love  bizness  blows  oveh. 
Boy  won't  lissen  to  me.  Says  he  made  de  con 
tract  an'  aims  to  stan'  by  it.  Aims  to  stan'  by 
de  woman  next  Monday  an'  git  hitched.  Lawdy, 
how  time  do  fly ! 

The  Colonel  looked  at  his  watch.  "I'll  see. 
I'm  busy  now." 

"Gunnel,  suh,  you  ain't  drunk  yo'  coffee!" 

Whuff.  The  Colonel  drank  his  coffee.  He 
got  up  and  two  minutes  later  was  on  his  way 
downtown  to  his  office  where,  until  four  o'clock 
that  afternoon  no  further  thought  of  Demmy's 


228  LILY 

predicament  entered  his  mind.  At  four  o'clock 
the  subconsciousness  of  something  forgotten  crys 
tallized  into  a  memory  of  the  problem  confront 
ing  Demmy.  He  summoned  his  secretary.  "Get 
me  the  Governor  at  the  capital,"  he  directed. 

Before  he  left  his  office  the  Colonel  had  spoken 
for  two  minutes  to  the  Governor  of  the  State. 
The  Governor  was  glad  to  listen  because,  first 
of  all,  Colonel  Fairfield  was  a  good  scout,  and  in 
the  second  place  the  Colonel  had  married  high 
in  politics.  In  the  third  place,  what  is  a  horse 
thief  more  or  less,  between  old  friends  $ 


On  Sunday  morning  the  Wildcat  again  tried 
to  interview  the  Colonel  on  behalf  of  the  agi 
tated  Demmy.  He  pulled  a  Sister  Ann,  which 
resulted  only  in  the  counter-command,  "Get  my 
golf  clubs!"  Colonel  Fairfield  seemed  to  have 
lost  interest  in  Demmy  and  his  affairs. 

The  Wildcat  did  not  press  the  questioning,  be 
lieving  that  the  day  would  offer  further  op 
portunity  for  discovering  what  had  been  done  in 
Demmy's  behalf.  In  this  he  was  mistaken. 
Thirty-six  holes  of  golf  and  considerable  fast 
play  at  the  nineteenth  left  the  Colonel  with  no 


LILY  229 

time  on  his  hands  for  such  trivial  details  of  life 
as  impending  weddings. 

The  fatal  Monday  dawned  through  a  bank 
of  black  clouds  but  half  as  sombre  as  the  mood 
which  had  claimed  Demmy  and  the  Wildcat  for 
its  own. 

In  the  woodshed  after  breakfast  had  been  de 
feated  Demmy  sketched  an  outline  of  his  Sun 
day  occupation.  "Wilecat,  whilst  dat  woman 
was  prancin'  roun'  alone  an'  whilst  all  de  boys 
wuz  down  at  de  barbeh  shop  an'  de  Fish  House 
an'  'tendin'  lodge,  dah  wuz  I,  front  in'  de  wash- 
tub  half  de  day  an'  iron'  de  clo'es  de  otheh  half. 
Den  I  hangs  'em  out." 

Demmy  realized  that  he  faced  a  future  com 
posed  entirely  of  labor  and  lingerie. 

"Didn't  leave  me  nuthin'  to  eat,"  Demmy  con 
tinued,  "nuthin'  'ceptin'  some  scraps  some  white 
lady  give  her.  You  'members  dat  ham  you  et, 
— dat  Bunny  woman  neveh  cook  dat  ham. 
Judge  Penny's  wife  give  it  to  Magnezia  when 
de  Judge  lef'  fo'  St.  Louis.  Dat  woman  kaint 
cook  none.  All  she  eats  is  whut  she  brings  home 
in  papeh  bags.  One  of  dese  can-openin'  cooks! 
Looks  like.  .  .  ." 

"Jes'  like  I  tole  you, — dat's  whut  it  looks 


230  LILY 

like,"  the  Wildcat  interrupted.  "Ain't  no  way 
out.  You  betteh  begin  gittin'  yo'  raiment  ready 
fo'  de  hitchin'  time." 

Demmy  groaned  and  kicked  feebly  at  Lily 
who  had  wandered  over  to  extend  her  sympathy. 
"Goat,  git  out  of  my  way!  Wuzn't  it  fo'  you 
us  might  neveh  met  OP  Man  Trouble." 

"Blaa-a !"  Lily  lowered  her  head  and  rammed 
a  remonstrance  at  Demmy  which  terminated  south 
of  Demmy 's  equator.  Thoroughly  exasperated, 
Demmy  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to  give 
Lily  a  thumping  kick  in  the  ribs  and  thereafter, 
temporarily,  armed  peace  reigned  over  the  wood 
shed. 

While  Demmy  was  completing  the  details  of 
his  sartorial  preparation  for  the  hour  of  tribula 
tion  at  the  church,  the  Wildcat,  less  embarrassed 
by  the  necessity  for  a  pictorial  effect  appropriate 
to  the  event,  donned  his  lavender  pants,  borrowed 
an  old  prince  albert  which  Colonel  Fairfield  had 
worn  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  and  departed 
for  the  church  where  the  wedding  was  to  take 
place. 

"Demmy,  I'se  on  my  way.  I  sees  is  eve'y- 
thing  'ranged  right." 

Demmy  groaned.  "See  kin  you  poison  de 
preacheh." 


LILY  231 

"Ain't  no  good.  Too  many  preachehs. 
Poisons  one  an'  dey's  five  mo'  springs  up.  Jes' 
like  dan'lion  weeds.  Don't  do  no  good  to  poison 
de  preacheh  o'  burn  down  de  chu'ch.  Nuthin* 
do  no  good.  Dey's  one  thing  you  kin  ease  yo' 
mind  wid, — some  day  you  dies." 

Demmy  snorted  his  farewell  and  the  Wildcat 
was  on  his  way.  "White-folks  ain't  neveh  failed 
me  yet.  OP  Cunnel  jes'  like  my  Cap'n  Jack. 
Neveh  failed  nobody  no  time.  Dis  comes  out 
right.  But  how  come  I  don't  see." 

While  the  Wildcat  was  marching  to  the  church 
Demmy  devoted  himself  to  the  business  of  dress 
ing  for  the  fray.  In  this  from  time  to  time  he 
was  interrupted  by  Lily,  who  seemed  to  sense 
the  approach  of  the  hour  of  disaster.  The  goat 
gave  herself  over  to  the  business  of  extending 
forgiveness  and  sympathy  to  the  victim  of  the 
day's  encounter. 

Lily's  approaches  met  but  one  return  and  that 
was  a  volley  of  kicks  from  Demmy's  nervous  feet. 
If  it  was  sympathy  which  Lily  offered  she  got 
an  exhibition  of  ingratitude.  And  if  it  was  com 
panionship  she  craved  she  was  disappointed, 
Demmy  was  in  no  mood  for  matters  outside  the 
channel  down  which  he  was  drifting  toward  the 
falls,  "Goat,  git  out  of  my  way  an'  stay  out 


232  LILY 

of  my  way !  Git  yo'  white  goat  hair  off  of  dese 
blue  pants !" 

His  preparations  complete,  Demmy  spoke  a 
harsh  farewell  to  the  mascot  goat  and  departed 
for  the  residence  of  his  bride. 

The  insulted  Lily,  realizing  that  she  had  but 
two  friends  in  the  world,  hesitated  about  follow 
ing  the  departing  Demmy,  and  then  at  the  mo 
ment  of  decision  she  reared  up  and  unlatched 
the  door  of  the  woodshed. 

Unseen  by  Demmy  the  mascot  followed  at  a 
safe  distance  until  the  sawed-off  brunet  entered 
Mis'  Bunny's  house.  Thereafter  the  goat  walked 
more  slowly. 

While  Demmy  was  greeting  his  bride  Lily  ap 
proached  the  house  and  parked  herself  at  Mis' 
Bunny's  gate  awaiting  the  moment  when  Demmy 
should  re-appear  and  praying  that  Demmy's 
normal  kindness  might  have  been  restored. 

Vain  hopes.  Accompanied  by  Mis'  Bunny, 
Demmy  appeared  at  the  door  and  his  greeting 
to  the  goat  carried  nothing  of  that  tempered 
quality  of  language  or  action  for  which  Lily  had 
prayed.  He  gave  the  mascot  a  parting  kick, 
after  storing  her  in  Mis'  Bunny's  kitchen. 

It  was  then  that  the  last  thin  frazzled  strand  of 
an  over-stressed  friendship  was  severed. 


LILY  233 


While  Demmy  and  his  tall  and  gangling  com 
panion  were  marching  on  their  way  to  the  church 
Lily  resolved  to  taste  the  sweetness  of  revenge 
as  quickly  as  events  offered  her  opportunity. 
She  bleated  harshly  and  butted  over  a  kitchen 
chair.  The  chair  failed  to  offer  resistance  com 
mensurate  with  the  goat's  idea  of  revenge  and  so 
she  turned  to  the  more  solid  front  offered  by  the 
wall  of  the  kitchen,  and  here,  for  a  little  while, 
in  solitude,  she  practiced  the  technique  of  pay 
ment  for  wrongs  sustained,  visualizing  the  while, 
the  diminutive  form  of  her  new  enemy. 

It  was  thus  that  she  was  discovered  five  minutes 
after  Demmy  and  Mis7  Bunny  had  left  the  house, 
— discovered  by  a  carbon-colored  man  who  called 
Mis'  Bunny's  name  several  times  and  then  de 
voted  himself  to  a  quick  exploration  of  the  house. 
The  man  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry.  He  galloped 
upstairs  and  came  back.  In  his  hand  the  gal 
loper  clutched  a  folded  paper. 

In  his  second  march  through  the  house,  seeing 
the  mascot  goat,  he  delayed  long  enough  to  give 
Lily  a  kindly  pat  on  the  head.  "Po'  li'l  goat! 
Whut  you  doin'  heah'?" 

"Blaa-a!"     Lily  answered  as  best  she  could, 


234  LILY 

and  then  she  felt  a  sudden  surge  of  friendship 
for  this  dark  stranger, — a  friendship  which  had 
been  instantly  inspired  by  his  kindly  words  and 
the  gentle  patting  which  she  had  received  at  his 
hands. 

When  the  stranger  departed  via  the  front  door 
he  called  an  inquiry  to  a  resident  of  a  neighbor 
ing  house.  "Whah  at  dis  Bunny  woman  gone?" 

The  neighbor  replied  with  full  directions  and 
the  stranger  took  up  his  march  at  a  double-time 
gait. 

Behind  him,  trailing  her  impetuous  new  friend, 
Lily  galloped  along,  resolved  that  she  would  fol 
low  this  benefactor  to  whatever  conflict  might 
await  them  at  the  end  of  the  one-way  trail. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

REV.  KINNEY  TELL,  wearing  his  official 
plug  hat,  beat  the  Wildcat  to  the  church 
by  about  four  minutes.  At  the  church 
the  pastor  discovered  old  Uncle  Sap  Crulley  ab 
sorbing  his  third  slug  of  Eliza  gin  in  anticipa 
tion  of  a  strenuous  half-hour  at  the  organ  bellows. 

At  half-past  eleven  all  of  the  brunet  elite  of 
Vicksburg  who  could  tear  themselves  away  from 
the  annoying  business  of  working  for  a  living, 
and  those  who  were  not  incapacitated  by  illness, 
jail  or  the  temporary  necessity  of  keeping  cover, 
were  assembled  in  the  church.  At  a  quarter  to 
twelve  the  arena  throbbed  for  its  martyrs. 

The  clatter  made  by  Uncle  Sap  in  stoking  the 
red  hot  stove  was  submerged  under  a  swelling 
flood  of  chattering  voices. 

With  the  stove  working  under  forced  draft 
Uncle  Sap  retired  to  his  kennel  back  of  the  organ 
where  he  proceeded  to  perspire  as  freely  as  his 
physical  restrictions  would  permit. 

Where  the   lay  congregation  was  concerned 

235 


236  LILY 

there  were  no  restrictions  on  pores  or  postures. 
They  fidgeted  about  under  the  rising  vapor  of 
musk  and  miasma  which  enriched  the  languid 
layers  of  superheated  atmosphere. 

At  twelve  o'clock,  hoping  against  hope  at  the 
thought  of  a  first-class  earthquake  or  something 
of  a  similar  nature  which  might  save  Demmy 
from  his  scheduled  fate,  the  Wildcat's  lifting 
spirits  were  blasted  by  a  cry  from  the  sentry  at 
the  door.  "Heah  dey  comes!" 

The  announcement  was  relayed  to  the  pulpit. 
Immediately  the  Rev.  Kinney  Tell,  creaking  in 
every  joint,  sprang  to  his  feet  and  extended  both 
arms.  "Breth'rens,  git  silent!" 

The  breth'rens  got  silent  and  while  they 
waited  for  the  entrance  of  Demmy  and  Mis' 
Magnezia  the  silence  was  broken  only  by  two 
violent  hiccoughs  from  behind  the  organ  where 
old  Uncle  Sap  had  absorbed  his  'Liza  gin  not 
wisely  but  too  fast. 

Under  the  arched  doorway,  with  Magnezia 
Bunny  barnacled  to  his  arm,  came  the  laboring 
feet  of  the  sawed-off  brunet. 

By  the  time  the  Wildcat  reached  his  side  the 
cadence  of  Demmy 's  marching  had  slowed  down 
like  the  tempo  of  a  dying  phonograph.  Demmy's 
greeting  croaked  like  the  voice  of  an  adolescent 


LILY  237 

bullfrog  gargling  in  a  slough  of  despond.  " Wile- 
cat,  us  is — "  Demmy  could  say  no  more. 

"I  knows  whut  us  is.  Gimme  hoi'  yo'  arm 
'till  I  'scorts  you  to  de  noose." 

"Whuff!"  Demmy  finished  a  groan  with  a 
grunt  and  the  keynote  of  his  despair  was  sud 
denly  taken  up  and  sustained  by  a  long  dis 
mal  wail  from  the  organ  behind  which  old  Uncle 
Sap  had  begun  his  hand-car  stunt  with  the  bel 
lows. 

Seated  in  front  of  the  organ,  her  fingers  wan 
dering  wildly  over  the  ivory  keys,  was  Mis'  Fern 
Green,  who  had  changed  her  name  shortly  after 
being  excluded  from  a  fate  worse  than  death 
some  years  back. 

The  marching  trio,  with  Demmy  shuffling  along 
between  his  captor  and  the  Wildcat,  took  up  the 
slow  course  toward  where  the  Rev.  Kinney  Tell 
waited  with  the  impedimenta  of  execution. 

Midway  of  the  march  the  organist  began  paw 
ing  the  keys  in  a  frantic  effort  to  create  sound 
where  sound  had  suddenly  died.  The  ravaged 
ivory  failed  to  respond.  Mis'  Green  cast  a  star 
tled  glance  at  the  master  of  ceremonies.  The 
Rev.  Kinney  Tell  ducked  quickly  into  the  narrow 
nest  behind  the  organ, — the  nest  wherein  old 
Uncle  Sap  had  gone  to  roost  on  an  alcohol  perch. 


238  LILY 

Uncle  Sap  was  dragged  out  of  the  retreat  and 
while  the  Wildcat  and  Demmy  and  Mis'  Bunny 
panted  at  parade-rest,  midway  of  the  aisle,  a 
blacksmith's  helper  was  substituted  at  the  pump 
handle  of  the  organ  bellows. 

The  Wildcat  whispered  quickly  to  his  two  com 
panions.  "Retreat  back  to  de  front  do'.  Dat 
was  a  false  start."  The  trio  backed  up  to  the 
front  door  while  Demmy' s  soul  stuttered  an  in 
coherent  plea  to  Lady  Luck  for  another  inter 
ruption  that  would  be  of  a  more  permanent  na 
ture. 

Off  at  the  post  again  and  this  time  avoiding 
overdrafts  on  the  volunteer  air  supply  the  organist 
cut  the  music  to  something  slower  than  a  three- 
bottle  stagger.  Between  each  step  the  Wildcat 
had  lots  of  time  to  think.  Demmy  was  beyond 
coherent  thought.  Mis'  Magnezia's  clenched 
jaws  and  flashing  eyes  served  as  an  index  of  her 
mental  state. 

The  mid-point  of  the  channel  where  the  snag 
had  been  struck  on  the  first  trip  was  met  and 
passed. 

At  the  half  Magnezia  led  by  a  jaw. 

A  little  beyond  this  point  Demmy's  bowed  head 
and  his  projecting  cranium  gave  him  a  slight  lead. 


LILY  239 

He  closed  his  eyes.  "Lady  Luck,  whah  at  is 
you?' 

Lady  Luck,  answering  indirectly,  voiced  her 
response  in  the  key  of  G  Flat.  Under  Mis'  Fern 
Green's  twinkling  fingers  the  organ  key  stuck  on 
G  Flat  with  the  steam  full  on.  Welling  up  into 
the  super-charged  atmosphere  of  the  packed  en 
closure  there  came  a  sudden  and  sustained  burst 
of  sound. 

Aching  ear-drums  synchronized  and  in  the  per 
sistent  note  high  pitched  laughter  was  sunk  with 
out  a  trace. 

The  Wildcat  stopped  where  he  stood.  He 
leaned  over  quickly  and  yelled  directly  into 
Demmy's  ear.  "Once  mo'  an'  you  is  finished. 
Three  times  is  out !"  He  smiled,  but  no  answer 
ing  smile  met  the  evidence  of  his  optimism. 
From  Demmy  hope  had  fled. 

Rev.  Kinney  Tell  officiated  behind  the  organ 
for  the  second  time.  "Shut  off  dat  wind!"  he 
yelled  to  the  volunteer  at  the  pump  handle. 

"Kaint  see  no  wind!  Whah  at's  de  wind 
thing?" 

Rev.  Tell  was  unable  to  locate  anything  by 
which  G  Flat  could  be  conquered  and  so  he  re 
mained  in  seclusion  for  three  minutes  while  the 


240  LILY 

note  matured.  It  lived  its  little  life,  protested, 
and  died  a  natural  death. 

He  mounted  the  rostrum  and  raised  his  hands. 
"Breth'rens,  the  wedding  march  will  be  redoomed 
widout  benefit  of  clergical  music." 

The  marching  trio  milled  for  a  moment  un 
certain  whether  to  continue  from  their  present 
point  or  to  get  off  their  feet  and  return  to  the 
doorway  for  a  new  start. 

The  Wildcat,  enjoying  a  sudden  hunch,  de 
cided  the  question.  He  piloted  his  two  compan 
ions  back  to  the  starting  point.  "Drag  it,"  he 
whispered.  "Slow  drag,  Mis'  Bunny.  Ain't 
elect  to  walk  fas'." 

Mis'  Bunny  dragged  it.  She  dragged  Demmy 
and  the  Wildcat.  Demmy  was  little  but  now  he 
hung  back  big. 

Mis'  Bunny's  eyes  wandered  from  their  ob 
jective  and  swept  her  diminutive  companion  with 
an  inquisitive  glance. 

Demmy,  enjoying  a  sudden  sense  of  impending 
salvation,  quailed  before  her  look. 

In  the  stretch,  while  the  plodding  trio  were 
yet  ten  feet  from  the  wire,  the  volunteer  pump 
man  back  of  the  organ  released  the  uplifted  pump 
handle.  Inspired  by  this  sagging  weight  the 
ghost  of  G  Flat  bleated  a  final  malediction  over 


LILY  241 

the  audience.  A  covey  of  giggles  and  grunts 
terminating  in  high,  whining  laughter  drowned 
the  G  Flat  ghost. 

Then  suddenly  the  laughter  stopped  and  ranks 
of  craning  necks  were  turned  toward  the  door 
of  the  church.  For  the  moment  the  impending 
ceremony  was  forgotten.  Framed  in  the  sunlit 
rectangle  of  the  door,  dancing  impatiently  beside 
a  breathless  stranger  in  whose  hand  was  clutched 
a  folded  paper,  was  Lily. 

The  mascot  paused  for  a  moment  only  and 
then  with  her  widened  eyes  she  discovered  the  di 
minutive  form  of  Demmy,  her  false  friend,  who 
by  sundry  kicks  and  curses  had  proclaimed  him 
self  her  enemy. 

The  ghost  of  G  Flat  found  its  sequel  in  an 
angry  bleat  from  Lily  which  marked  the  instant 
of  her  furious  action.  With  four  wheels  skid 
ding  on  a  slippery  rail  Lily  started  down  the 
aisle  of  the  church  and  her  trajectory  was  the 
shortest  distance  between  two  points.  One  of 
these  points  was  the  frontal  bone  of  Lily's  cra 
nium  from  which  branched  the  mascot's  horns. 
The  point  at  the  other  extreme  lay  midway  be 
tween  the  two  back  buttons  on  Demmy 's  bor 
rowed  blue  pants. 

Discarding  all  intermediate  speeds  Lily  bridged 


242  LILY 

the  first  half  of  the  intervening  gap  on  high. 
Enjoying  a  firmer  footing  on  the  fibre  mat  which 
paved  her  course  she  accelerated  in  the  stretch 
to  something  less  than  the  velocity  of  an  overdue 
cannon  ball. 

The  crash  of  the  impact  was  drowned  in  a  gale 
of  laughter  and  a  chorus  of  encouraging  yells. 

The  first  shock  boosted  Demmy  ten  feet  ahead 
of  his  captor.  He  landed  sprawling  at  the 
mourner's  bench.  Above  him  the  Rev.  Kinney 
Tell  struggled  with  a  paralyzed  tongue  in  an 
effort  to  call  down  showers  of  blessings  on  the 
sight  that  assaulted  his  bulging  eyes. 

A  moment  only  did  the  recumbent  Demmy 
enjoy  his  reprieve.  Lily  again  attacked  and  en 
joyed  a  second  victory  before  she  succumbed  to 
a  foul  tackle  staged  by  the  Wildcat. 

At  the  moment  that  Demmy  and  the  Wildcat 
and  Lily  lay  in  a  tangled  snarl  against  the 
mourner's  bench  the  voice  of  the  dark  stranger 
bellowed  high  above  the  ruckus.  He  craved  to 
know  how  come.  "Magnezia,  whut  you  doin' 
at  de  altah  wid  dat  sawed-off  boy^" 

Magnezia  Bunny  turned  to  the  stranger. 
Her  open  lips  suffered  a  cry  of  surprise  to  escape. 
"Mah  man!"  and  then  the  gangling  and  de 
feated  bride  fainted  on  top  of  the  general  heap 


LILY  243 

of  brunet  humanity,  goat  hair,  horns  and  legs 
that  writhed  before  her. 

The  bull-voiced  stranger  picked  her  up. 
"Wake  up,  woman!  Rise  an'  repent!  OF 
Gunnel  Fairfield  promised  me  loose  f'm  de  stone- 
house.  Got  de  pardon  papeh  in  my  hand. 
Wake  up  an7  come  'long  befo'  I  knocks  you  dream 
less  !  Whut  you  mean  rampagin'  roun' !  Come 
'longheah." 

Ten  seconds  later  Mis'  Magnezia  Bunny  had 
been  hauled  out  through  the  open  door  of  the 
church.  Her  wrist  was  imprisoned  in  a  grasp 
compared  to  which  her  clutch  on  Demmy  had 
been  a  bond  of  gossamer. 

At  the  mourner's  bench  the  prostrate  Demmy 
opened  one  eye.  "Who  lit  de  dynamite?" 

The  Wildcat  answered  him.  "Ain't  no  dy 
namite.  Lady  Luck  saved  you, — wid  de  help  of 
Lily.  Stay  still  whilst  dat  bellerin'  boy  gits  ol' 
Magnezia  down  de  street.  Dat's  her  righteous 
husban'  whut  ol'  Gunnel  sot  free.  Tol'  you  three 
times  wuz  out.  Hot  dam!  Rise  an'  shine,  po' 
mourner, — you  is  free!" 


Colonel  Fairfield,  rich  in  experience  with  the 
whims  and  failings  of  the  brunet  toilers  of  the 


244  LILY 

South,  betrayed  no  surprise  when  on  Monday  the 
Wildcat  and  Demmy  asked  for  the  wages  due 
them.  "Where  are  you  boys  headed  for  from 
here,  in  case  the  hangman  asks  about  you  9" 

The  Wildcat  and  Demmy  laughed  heartily  in 
the  manner  expected  of  them.  "Gunnel,  suh,  us 
aims  to  ketch  de  train  fo'  Memphis  whah  at  my 
ol'  Cap'n  Jack  lives.  Got  to  retreat  dis  Demmy 
niggeh  f'm  whah  dese  wile  wimmin'  is  so  ragin'. 
Spec'  does  he  stay  in  Vicksburg  one  mo'  week 
he'd  be  penned  up  permanent  wid  some  animil 
trainer.  De  boy  is  light  built  but  when  he  falls 
he  falls  heavy.  Yass  suh!" 


CHAPTER   XX 

IN  France,  throughout  the  war,  Captain  Jack 
marched  in  time  with  the  music,  and  when 
the  bugles  of  conflict  gave  place  to  the  fid 
dling  dances  of  the  peace  conference  he  lan 
guished  with  the  inactive  victors  until  he  awak 
ened  to  a  new  interest  in  life  which  left  him  a 
bound  captive,  meshed  in  the  bonds  of  love's 
young  dream  and  totally  married  to  the  only  girl 
in  the  world. 

With  his  bride,  the  daughter  of  a  senator  who 
knew  his  business,  Captain  Jack  returned  to  his 
home  in  Memphis.  The  home-coming  was  un 
marked,  and  marred  by  no  adventure  except  the 
disappearance  of  the  sidetracked  Wildcat  who 
managed  to  get  himself  lost  in  the  jungles  of 
New  York,  San  Francisco  and  several  way  sta 
tions. 

Thereafter,  for  more  than  a  year,  Captain  Jack 
bore  up  under  his  loss  as  best  he  could,  relieving 
his  acute  distress  now  and  then  by  profane  and 
complex  threats,  spoken  under  his  breath,  con- 

245 


246  LILY 

cerning  the  fate  that  awaited  the  prodigal  Wild 
cat  when  that  truant  should  see  fit  to  return  to 
his  master's  range  of  action.  These  outbursts 
usually  followed  upon  the  installation  of  some 
new  servant  in  Captain  Jack's  house.  No  longer 
were  his  days  marked  by  the  languid  routine  of 
a  play-lover's  life  in  the  South.  Business  was 
business  now  and  overtime  was  devoted  to  what 
seemed  to  be  a  perpetual  round  of  formal  en 
tertainments  staged  by  his  wife  and  inspired  by 
that  lady's  sense  of  her  social  duties. 

Where  his  establishment  had  numbered  two 
black  servants  were  now  half  a  dozen  whose  com 
plexions  ranged  the  scale  from  olive  to  ebony. 
Captain  Jack's  personal  servant,  a  mustard- 
faced  youth  from  Jamaica  who  spoke  extrava 
gant  English  and  never  forgot  his  British  origin, 
had  been  installed  some  months  before  and  had 
held  his  job  only  because  Captain  Jack  was  dis 
couraged  and  done  with  experiments  which  seemed 
invariably  to  land  him  one  degree  further  down 
the  scale  of  personal  comfort.  The  Jamaica 
quadroon,  schooled  as  a  servant  in  houses  of  the 
foreign  residents  of  his  native  island,  knew  his 
work.  After  the  first  month  in  Captain  Jack's 
house  this  Eustace  Somerset,  being  mostly  ape 
under  the  skin,  knew  more  about  Captain  Jack's 


LILY  247 

personal  whims  than  that  individual  himself. 
"He's  careful  enough,  my  dear,"  the  master  of 
the  house  admitted  to  the  mistress  thereof,  "care 
ful  enough  and  does  his  work,  but  I  can't  get  used 
to  having  a  nigger  around  me  that  talks  better 
English  than  I  do, — fact  is  he  makes  me  feel  in 
ferior." 

"Jack,  you're  silly.  He's  the  best  boy  you 
ever  had.  And  whenever  I  see  the  servants  that 
infest  these  other  houses  I'm  tempted  to  import 
a  dozen  more  of  Somerset's  kind.  Somehow  he 
lends,' — not  distinction — something — he  is  dif 
ferent.  That's  all  there  is  to  it.  I  wish 
some  of  these  Memphis  darkies  were  more  like 
him/' 

To  this  terminal  fate,  riding  the  jim-crow  day- 
coach  from  Vicksburg,  the  Wildcat  and  Demmy 
rolled  through  the  long  day  and  well  into  the 
winter  afternoon.  Alighting  in  the  Memphis 
station  and  comparing  himself  with  some  of  the 
better  dressed  brunets  that  languished  around  him 
the  Wildcat  was  conscious  of  some  slight  ambi 
tion  to  police  his  external  effect  before  present 
ing  himself  to  his  white-folks.  "Us  might  git 
some  pants,  Demmy,  an'  a  shirt  whut  ain't  so 
tore.  OP  Cap'n  Jack  see  me  dis  way  like  as  not 
he  knock  me  loose  f'm  my  backbone." 


248  LILY 

"Ain't  got  much  time,  Wilecat,  near  sundown 


now." 


Demmy's  vote,  together  with  a  sneaking  ambi 
tion  to  be  knocked  loose  from  his  backbone  or  to 
suffer  some  similar  compliment  at  Captain  Jack's 
hands,  carried  the  day  and  forthwith  the  trio 
headed  for  the  house  that  henceforth  was  to  shelter 
them.  "Demmy,  soon  as  us  sees  de  Cap'n  us 
says  howdy  to  de  cook.  Sho'  hungry.  Las' 
time  I  lef'  de  place  dey  wuz  a  gran'  woman 
cookin'  fo'  Cap'n  Jack.  Heavy  set  woman  but 
a  oP  han'  wid  de  real  vittles.  Woman  named 
Boone.  Husban'  wuz  dat  yaller  Honeytone 
Boone  whut  uplifted  us  boys  durin'  de  wah." 

"You  tol'  me  'bout  dat  boy  dis  aftehnoon. 
I  remembers." 

"Ain't  gwine  see  him.  Dat  boy  'fraid  to  come 
prowlin'  'roun'  dis  town.  Heah's  de  street. 
Lawd  gosh,  ain't  dat  house  nach'ral.  .  .  .  Whut's 
all  dem  white  folks  comin'  out?  Neveh  seed  so 
many  ladies  in  de  place." 

"Looks  like  high  tone  folks.     Visitin'  prolly." 

"Prolly  is.  Us  goes  down  dis  alley  an'  in  de 
back  way,  Demmy." 

Up  the  alley,  with  Lily  at  their  heels,  trailed 
the  pair  until  they  came  to  the  door  of  the  wood 
shed  that  bounded  the  back  of  Captain  Jack's 


LILY  249 

property.  The  Wildcat  fumbled  with  the  latch 
for  a  moment  before  he  managed  to  open  it. 
"Got  a  new  kind  of  fastnin'  on  dis  place."  En 
tering  the  shed  he  noted  that  the  interior  had 
been  considerably  cleaned  up  since  his  former 
occupancy.  "Dat  paint  makes  de  place  look  like 
dese  new  houses  whut's  too  fancy  to  git  com- 
f  table  in.  All  de  trash  cleaned  out, — place  don't 
seem  so  homelike,  Demmy,  p'liced  up  like  'spec- 
tion  day  in  de  A.  E.  F." 

Demmy  reserved  comment.  "I  betteh  wait 
heah,  Wilecat,  'till  you  sees  yo'  white-folks  an' 
'ranges  fo'  Cap'n  Jack  to  hire  me  on." 

"Dat's  right.  You  wait  heah  wid  Lily."  The 
Wildcat's  tone  reflected  something  of  old  au 
thority  borrowed  from  previous  association. 
"Wait  heah  whilst  I  fixes  dis  job  bizness  wid  de 
big  man." 

Alone  the  fixer  prowled  out  of  the  woodshed 
in  the  direction  of  the  house.  En  route  to  the 
back  door  he  noted  that  the  back  lawn  had  been 
renovated,  bordering  rubbish  eliminated,  and 
two  new  steady-put  clothes  lines  rigged  from 
trimly  painted  poles. 

Confidently  he  mounted  the  short  stairway  that 
led  to  the  kitchen  door.  He  hesitated  about  open 
ing  the  door  without  ceremony  and  then,  con- 


250  LILY 

ceding  a  point  for  fear  of  offending  the  cook  on 
whom  he  proposed  to  lean  heavily,  he  comprom 
ised  by  knocking  loud  and  long  on  the  reso 
nant  panels  that  framed  the  swinging  screen. 

There  was  a  delay  in  answering.  He  knocked 
again,  and  this  time  indignation  sounded  in  his 
summons.  He  tried  the  door  and  it  was  hooked. 

He  heard  some  parley,  evidently  passing  be 
tween  the  cook  and  a  peaked  voiced  male.  "Som- 
'set,  honey,  see  who's  makin'  de  clatter  on  dat 
back  do'.  I's  in  de  flouh  to  my  el-bones  an' 
kaint  leave  dese  biskits." 

The  Wildcat  proposed  to  tell  the  world  who 
was  making  the  clatter.  Into  the  interior  of  the 
house  he  called  loudly.  "It's  me.  Open  dis 
do'!" 

He  heard  the  cook's  voice.  "Who  is  you, 
imp'dence'?"  And  then,  through  the  door,  he 
saw  the  approaching  form  of  his  mustard-faced 
rival,  Eustace  Somerset,  late  of  Highgate,  Mid 
dlesex  County,  Jamacia. 

"Whah  at's  Cap'n  Jack?     Open  dis  do'." 

"Leave  off  the  racket.  I  am  Eustace  Somer 
set,  the  Captain's  valet.  What  is  your  business 
with  the  gentleman*?"  The  quadroon's  inter 
rogation  sounded  to  the  Wildcat  like  a  challenge 
from  a  guard-house  sentry. 


LILY  251 

"Uppity,  how  come  you  cravin'  to  know  so 
much?  Bizness  wid  Cap'n  Jack  is  pussonal 
'twixt  us.  I  tells  you  fo'  de  las'  time,  open  dis 
do'." 

An  instant  later  the  heavy  inner  door  slammed 
in  the  Wildcat's  face.  He  realized  finally  that 
this  preliminary  interview  was  ended.  He 
thought  some  of  tearing  off  a  wing  of  the  house 
and  then  consideration  for  Captain  Jack's  prop 
erty  prevailed  and  he  soothed  himself  with  a  few 
red  hot  promises  of  what  he  would  do  to  Eustace 
Somerset  whenever  Lady  Luck  booned  him  with 
a  chance  to  get  close  enough  to  that  individual 
to  deprive  him  loose  from  about  nine  pounds  of 
dark  meat.  "Useless  Som'set!  I  makes  him 
useless.  Yaller  nigger!  Huh!  I  learns  him 
manners  de  fust  time  I  ketches  him  loose. 
Learns  him  so  much  dey  kaint  tell  him  f'm  de 
leavin's!  Ax  me  whut  I  wants  wid  ol'  Cap'n 
Jack!" 

He  walked  back  to  the  woodshed  where 
Demmy  waited  hopefully  for  news  of  the  new 
job  where  a  light  built  boy  could  lean  heavy  on 
the  kitchen  throughout  the  winter.  "Cap'n  Jack 
ain't  home,  Demmy.  Us  goes  down  to  Willie 
Webster's  place  an'  waits  'roun'  'till  de  Cap'n 
comes  back." 


252  LILY 

He  led  the  way  to  Willie  Webster's  barber 
shop,  retailing,  en  route,  the  details  of  his  en 
counter  ^  with  the  Somerset  person.  When 
he  came  to  the  shop  he  walked  in  the  front  door. 
At  his  heels  trailed  Demmy  and  the  faithful 
mascot. 

The  Webster  organization  consisted  of  a  two- 
chair  industry  devoted  to  plain  and  fancy  ton- 
sorial  effects,  with  musk  extra,  and  hair  straight- 
ener  fifty  cents.  When  the  Wildcat  entered,  the 
front  room  was  empty,  save  for  a  pair  of  sleeping 
hounds  and  the  assistant  whose  presence  gave  the 
proprietor  enough  freedom  from  professional 
occupation  to  conduct  an  intermittent  gambling 
den  and  athletic  club  in  the  room  behind  his 
shop. 

"Whah's  Willie?"  The  Wildcat  wanted  to 
know. 

The  somnolent  assistant  moved  his  lower 
jaw.  "Willie,  heah's  a  man  whut  wants  to  see 
you." 

A  faint  clicking  of  parading  cubes  ceased  and 
in  a  moment  the  Wildcat  saw  his  barber  friend 
emerging  from  the  portals  of  the  door  to  the 
back  room.  "Wilecat!  Well,  I  be  dog! 
Whah  you  been  all  dis  long  time?" 


LILY  253 

"Willie,  dis  my  fren'  Demmy.  I  been  travel- 
lin'  back.  How  is  you?" 

"Middlin', — eatin'  reg'lar.  Kaint  complain. 
Come  on  in  de  confidential  parlor  whah  de  gal 
lopers  is  pastured, — bring  yo'  fren'  an'  dat  mas 
cot.  Looks  like  dat  goat  has  growed  since  las' 


we  met." 


"Growed  meaner.     Gittin'  old." 

The  trio,  with  Lily,  passed  into  the  back  room, 
wherein  was  gathered  a  mixed  audience  of  other 
wise  unemployed.  Nearly  all  of  them  were  old 
friends  of  the  Wildcat  and  the  chorus  of  greeting 
was  appropriate  to  the  reunion.  After  the  first 
furore  of  salutations  had  9ied  down  Demmy  was 
introduced  and  then,  following  a  direct  lead,  the 
Wildcat  asked  his  little  world  who,  why  and 
how  much  was  the  yaller  Som'set  named  nigger 
who  worked  for  Captain  Jack. 

The  replies  were  various.  "Jamaica  nigger 
.  .  .  great  han'  wid  de  wimmin  at  socials  an'  such 
like  .  .  .  speaks  sort  of  N' Orleans  French  .  .  . 
talks  like  a  preacheh  only  he  uses  bigger  words 
:i •  i  .  neveh  sees  him  at  no  chu'ch  .  .  .  workin' 
for  Cap'n  Jack  goin'  on  six  months.  .  ." 

Demmy  asked  two  questions. 

"Claims  he's  Jamaica  boy*?" 


254  LILY 

"Sho'  do.  Claims  he's  a  British  nigger. 
Worked  fo'  gov'ment  folks  in  Jamaica  an'  Barb- 
'dos  an'  Trin'dad  an*  all  dem  English  places." 

"Speaks  French?" 

"Some, — low  down.  De  N'Orleans  boys  kin 
make  him  out." 

"Huh!"  Demmy  grunted  once  and  thereafter 
reserved  all  further  comment  and  criticism. 

A  member  of  the  assemblage  volunteered  some 
more  information.  "Wilecat,  you  gits  a  chance 
to  meet  dis  Som'set,  social  like,  nex'  Wens' day 
night  does  you  crave  to.  Sis'  Tilly  Crimmit  is 
gwine  to  give  a  party  We'nsday  night.  You 
knows  Sis'  Tilly.  Come  'long  an'  bring  Demmy. 
You  gits  a  meetin'  wid  dis  Som'set  nigger  at 
Sis'  Tilly's  house." 

"Me  an'  Demmy  sho'  come." 

In  a  secluded  corner  of  the  room  the  crap  game 
which  had  been  sidetracked  by  the  Wildcat's  ar 
rival,  suddenly  came  to  life.  Willie  Webster 
issued  an  invitation  to  the  Wildcat  and  Demmy. 
"Git  in  an'  see  kin  you  make  de  clickers  behave." 

The  stakes  were  running  light  and  with  more 
than  four  hundred  dollars  in  the  Wildcat's  pocket 
his  craving  for  action  was  not  acute.  "Much 
'bliged,  Willie.  Me  an'  Demmy  aims  to  git 


LILY  25$ 

some  clo'es  an'  projec'  roun'  some  to-night.  Us 
rides  dem  gallopers  some  otheh  time.  Sees  you 
lateh." 

The  next  half -hour  was  devoted  to  the  pur 
chase  of  clothes.  After  a  while  the  Wildcat 
and  Demmy,  laden  with  wrapped  raiment,  drifted 
to  a  hotel  where  they  negotiated  for  temporary 
quarters.  They  emerged  presently  clad  in  the 
new  outfit  and  sought  food.  At  a  restaurant, 
after  the  first  few  pounds  of  the  evening  rations 
had  been  disposed  of,  Demmy  voiced  his  message 
of  comfort  to  his  companion.  "Don't  you  git 
pestered  wid  dis  yaller  nigger,  Wilecat.  Dat 
boy  las'  quick  f'm  now  on.  I  knows  dem  island 
niggers.  Worked  on  a  sugar  boat  goin'  on  two 
yeahs  down  theah.  Worked  another  yeah  on  a 
banana  boat  roun'  Hayti  an'  Jamaica.  Dat 
Som'set  nigger  last  jes'  so  long  befo'  something 
outlasts  him.  Mebbe  he  won't  las'  dat  long. 
Us  sees  him  at  de  party  We'nsday  night  an'  you 
sees  how  triflin'  he  is." 

"Slam  de  do'  in  my  face,  Demmy.  Didn't 
tell  you  dat." 

"Neveh  mind,  Wilecat.  Befo'  us  is  done  wid 
him  he  be  pray  in'  fo'  rain  an'  smell  in'  smoke 
whah  his  feet  hits  de  road.  Us  crematizes  dat 


256  LILY 

nigger  in  his  own  leavin'  heat.  I  knows,  an'  I 
tells  you." 

'Tomorr'  I  sees  Cap'n  Jack  an'  tells  him  he 
don't  need  dis  Som'set  no  longer  an'  den — " 

"Wilecat,  leave  me  advise  you.  Wait  'till 
dat  boy  is  gone  fust.  Den  when  you  sees  de 
Cap'n  dey  ain't  no  hitch.  When  you  sees  dis 
Som'set  at  de  party  We'nsday  night  you  gives 
him  de  run  so  he  neveh  comes  back." 

"Whut  you  mean, — cut  him  loose  f'm  Memphis 
wid  de  blood  hook?" 

"Dat's  de  las'  thing  I  means.  No  blood  ruckus. 
Jes'  promise  whut  you  aims  to  do." 

"Demmy,  gin' ally  I  hates  to  do  de  promishY 
fust  but  dis  time  I  does  whut  you  sez.  I  talks 
to  dat  boy  an'  warns  him.  Afteh  dat,  'less  he 
heeds  de  spoken  promise,  I  cuts  him  down  to 
grass-size  an'  lets  Lily  eat  de  remains." 

"Dat  nigger  leave  easy,  Wilecat.  I  knows  his 
kind.  Ripe  orange  nigger.  Yaller  f'm  skin  to 
skin." 


At  Sis'  Tilly's  party  Wednesday  night  the 
Wildcat  and  Demmy  preceded  the  enemy  by 
fifteen  minutes.  The  pair  edged  toward  the 
crowd  that  had  already  swarmed  around  a  huge 


LILY  257 

tin  dishpan  in  which  was  a  mixture  which  from 
its  aroma  promised  to  carry  enough  authority  to 
make  it  worth  drinking.  Sis'  Tilly  and  her  hus 
band,  who  was  the  ninth  floor  janitor  of  one  of 
the  tallest  buildings  in  Memphis,  had  a  reputa 
tion  for  hospitality  second  to  none,  and  hospitality 
in  the  brunet  elect  there  present  was  gauged 
by  the  alcohol  index  of  the  refreshments  served. 

With  the  Wildcat's  third  cup  of  the  invigorat 
ing  fluid  he  heard  in  his  ear  the  voice  of  his 
hostess.  "Mistah  Marsden,  lemme  make  you 
'quainted  to  Misteh  Som'set.  Misteh  Som'set 
wuks  fo'  yo'  ol'  miPtary  leadeh, — I  spec'  you  gits 
fren'ly  real  soon  'count  o'  dat." 

Demmy,  standing  beside  the  Wildcat,  figgered 
that  Sis'  Tilly  had  one  more  guess  coming  to 
her. 

The  Wildcat  threw  diplomacy  and  reserve  to 
the  four  winds.  "I  knows  dis  nigger,  Sis'  Tilly." 
He  turned  to  his  rival.  "Som'set,  git  away  f'm 
me  'till  I  gits  done  wid  my  likker."  Deliberately 
he  spilled  the  dregs  of  his  third  cup  on  the  quad 
roon's  polished  shoes.  "Useless,  stan'  back  befo' 
you  gits  drowned." 

Ten  seconds  later,  with  half  a  dozen  burly 
male  guests  restraining  the  vociferous  pair,  the 
Wildcat's  challenge  was  answered  direct  and  with- 


258  LILY 

out  immediate  assistance.  "Mr.  Marsden,  it  will 
afford  me  great  pleasure  to  have  the  opportunity 
of  meeting  you  in  the  squared  circle  to-morrow 
night." 

"You  means  you  'cepts*?" 

"I  do." 

The  Wildcat  addressed  the  company.  "Folks, 
I  'pologizes  fo'  havin'  any  hand  in  a  ruckus  in 
Sis'  Tilly's  house.  I  'vites  you  one  an'  all  to 
de  second  an'  last  roun'  twixt  me  an'  dis  Som'- 
set  nigger  tomorr'  night  in  de  back  room  of  Willie 
Webster's  barber  shop.  De  rough' ree  betteh 
bring  a  shovel  to  save  funeral  charges  on  dis 
Useless  afteh  I  blows  his  pussonal  Taps.  Sez 
us!" 


CHAPTER   XXI 

ON  the  day  following  the  clash  at  Sis' 
Tilly's  party,  Demmy,  acting  as  the 
Wildcat's  trainer  and  coach,  moral  ad 
viser,  manager  and  second,  got  into  action  with 
the  rising  sun,  and  by  nine  o'clock  the  ring  cos 
tume  for  his  principal  had  been  created  from  the 
lower  half  of  a  purple  swimming  suit.  The 
alterations  which  transformed  the  trunks  into  bat 
tle  raiment  consisted  largely  of  six  loops  sewed 
around  the  waistband.  Through  these  loops  was 
laced  a  thick  felt  band  bearing,  in  painted  capi 
tals,  unconfirmed,  the  word:  "CHAMPION." 

Shortly  after  nine  o'clock  Demmy  returned  to 
the  hotel  room  with  the  battler's  uniform.  At 
his  manager's  request  the  Wildcat  had  remained 
in  bed,  resting.  He  was  presented  with  the  slogan 
bearing  pants.  "Put  dese  on  you,  Wilecat,  an' 
wear  'em.  Save  time  when  it  comes  to  de  finish 
to-night." 

"Whut  dem  words  say  on  dem  pants,  Demmy  ? 
You  knows  I  kaint  read." 

259 


260  LILY 

"Dey  says  cham'peen.     Ain't  no  doubt  is  you." 

The  Wildcat  slid  into  his  champion  pants  and 
then  set  about  festooning  himself  with  his  outer 
raiment.  Throughout  the  day  he  wore  the  pants 
and  derived  comfort  and  moral  courage  from  the 
secret  knowledge  that  he  was  branded  with  truth 
and  that  when  he  stepped  into  the  ring  the  world 
could  read  the  broadcasted  facts  without  having  to 
wait  for  a  demonstration. 

At  breakfast,  against  his  trainer's  advice, 
the  Wildcat  had  indulged  himself  heartily. 
"Demmy,  I  don't  aim  to  let  no  prize  fight  'floo- 
ence  me  against  rations.  Whilst  I  kin,  I  eats. 
Dat's  my  slogum, — eat  whilst  you  kin  git  it 
'cause  some  day  OP  Man  Trouble  ketches  you 
an'  aft  eh  dat  yo'  teeth  gits  a  furlough." 

When  the  rations  had  been  met  and  conquered 
the  pair  returned  to  the  Wildcat's  room.  "Git 
rested,  Wilecat,"  Demmy  advised.  "Lay  down 
an'  stay  down  'till  it's  time  to  eat  some  mo'. 
Save  yo'  strength." 

This  was  an  appealing  program  and  the  Wild 
cat  adopted  it.  Through  the  day,  until  long  after 
noon  he  snored  himself  into  condition  to  hand 
his  rival  the  slogan-proving  ticket  to  dreamland. 

In  the  contest  department  of  Willie  Webster's 
barber  shop  the  battle-pen  was  finished  by  four 


LILY  261 

o'clock  and  the  ropes  which  had  seen  service  in 
a  dozen  similar  encounters  were  stretched  as  tight 
as  the  canvas  covering  that  concealed  the  floor  of 
the  elevated  ring  structure. 

The  arena  was  ready  for  action  before  the 
Wildcat  had  finished  his  elaborate  supper. 

At  six  o'clock,  from  various  sources,  Demmy's 
ears  were  assailed  with  bits  of  whispered  dope 
concerning  the  opposition.  All  of  the  gossip  was 
adverse  and  it  reacted  unfavorably  on  the  sawed- 
off  second.  He  joined  his  principal  and  the 
Wildcat  was  quick  to  note  some  change  in  his 
companion's  mood.  "How  come  you  so  down- 
casted,  Demmy  *?  Li'l  while  an'  de  skies  is  clear." 

"Ain't  downcasted,  Wilecat.  You  mistook 
my  look.  Go  easy  on  dem  spinnage  greens. 
Greens  kills  yo'  vigor." 

"I  is.     Dey  eats  easy.     How  is  de  bettin"?" 

"Bettin'  is  even.  Dey's  some  money  comin* 
out  on  Som'set, — mos'ly  f'm  outside  niggers." 

The  Wildcat  hauled  out  his  roll.  He  handed 
it  to  Demmy.  "Boy,  heah's  goin'  on  fo'  hund'ed 
dollahs  dat  us  win  f'm  dat  Sledge  man  wid  dc 
clickers.  Stand  it  up  whah  it  kin  broadcast  its 
meanin'  whilst  I  knocks  dat  Som'set  nigger  loose 
f'm  his  job  wid  my  white  folks." 

Demmy  took  the  roll.     "I  bets  it,  Wilecat. 


262  LILY 

I  got  to  git  my  own  cash  laid  out.  Us  betteh 
git  to  de  place  now.  Gong  at  eight." 

"Le's  go.     Us  beats  de  gong." 

The  pair  walked  to  the  Webster  establishment 
where  half  the  spectators  had  gathered.  The 
Wildcat  was  accorded  a  reception  which  left  no 
doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  the  outcome  of  the  fray. 
Through  the  crowd  he  plowed  his  way,  leading  his 
mascot  goat  behind  him,  and  his  progress  was  a 
continual  march  of  premature  triumph. 

Demmy  lost  himself  in  the  crowd  and  for  half 
an  hour,  busy  on  the  various  mysterious  errands 
of  a  manager,  he  was  absent  from  the  Webster 
shop. 

His  actions  during  this  absence  were  worthy 
of  note.  The  first  thing  he  did  after  he  left  the 
crowded  barber  shop  was  to  buy  a  red  bandana 
handkerchief  at  a  little  store.  Further  down  the 
street,  at  a  butcher  shop,  he  negotiated  for  a 
handful  of  thin  sheep  ribs  from  the  narrow  end 
of  six  mutton  chops.  He  hurried  to  the  se 
clusion  of  his  room  with  these  trophies  and  spent 
a  feverish  five  minutes  in  scraping  the  shreds  of 
meat  from  the  bones  he  had  gathered.  Then  he 
tore  the  red  bandana  handkerchief  into  strips  two 
inches  wide,  cutting  each  long  strip  into  four-inch 
sections.  A  ragged  towel  suffered  the  same  fate. 


LILY  263 

He  stuffed  the  accumulation  of  red  and  white 
rags  into  the  side  pocket  of  his  coat  and  on  this 
foundation,  within  easy  reach,  he  stowed  the  six 
bones. 

When  he  returned  to  the  barber  shop  he  lin 
gered  outside  a  while,  horning  into  various  groups 
of  colored  humanity  until  he  found  those  for 
whom  he  was  searching.  A  few  hurried  words 
and  the  Wildcat's  roll  of  bills  was  staked  against 
a  like  sum  and  deposited  with  the  Reverend  Cal 
amus  Jordan,  pastor  of  the  Third  Uplift  Church, 
who  was  there  in  the  interests  of  himself  and 
Society  and  whose  official  integrity  made  him  a 
stakeholder  equally  acceptable  to  both  factions. 

With  the  Wildcat's  roll  Demmy  bet  his  own 
money.  "Dat's  eight  hund'ed,  Rev'und,  an'  no — 
advertisin'." 

"Us  respec's  yo'  confidence,  brutheh."  The 
Sphinx  was  garrulous  compared  to  Rev'und  Cal 
amus  Jordan. 

"Dat's  noble.  Come  wid  me  an5  I  gits  you 
a  ringside  seat."  Demmy  towed  the  walking 
bank  through  the  packed  crowd  until  he  came  to 
the  inside  room  where  the  battle  stage  was  wait 
ing.  He  escorted  the  Rev'und  Jordan  to  a  seat 
close  beside  the  Wildcat's  corner.  "You  sees  it 
fine  f  m  heah." 


264  LILY 

And  from  there,  in  case  of  emergencies  or  hur 
ried  departures,  Demmy  could  see  him  fine. 

A  rising  murmur  heralded  the  arrival  of  the  op 
position.  "Dat's  Som'set, — de  yaller  boy  wid  de 
big  coat." 

In  the  crowd  Demmy  edged  toward  the  new 
comers.  When  Som'set  passed  him  Demmy 
reached  out  his  hand  and  into  the  near  pocket  of 
the  big  coat  he  dropped  two  thin  bones  and  two 
torn  shreds  of  the  red  bandana.  This  accom 
plished  he  retired  to  a  secluded  space  near  the 
Wildcat's  corner  of  the  ring  where  four  clothes 
lines  suspended  long  curtains  which  formed  the 
walls  of  the  ringside  dressing  room. 

The  Wildcat  was  stripped  to  his  champion 
pants  and  was  seated  on  a  box,  waiting  easily  for 
the  moment  of  battle.  Beside  him,  nibbling 
heartily  on  the  end  of  a  yellow  necktie,  sat  the 
mascot  goat. 

Demmy  sized  up  his  champion.  "You  feelin' 
right  fo'  de  fray?" 

"Demmy,  I  feel  a  million.  Is  de  money 
bet?" 

"All  bet  an'  de  stakeholder  at  de  ringside." 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  penetrating  voice 
of  Willie  Webster  who  began  to  address  the  as 
semblage.  "Folks,  git  ca'm!  De  night's  con- 


LILY  265 

tes'  is  between  Misteh  Vitus  Marsden  who  you 
knows  betteh  as  Wilecat,  an'  Misteh  Eustis'  Som- 
'set,  de  great  unknown.  Dese  men  fights  undeh 
de  olj  time  rule  bes'  'spressed  by  de  simple  advice, 
git  yo'  meat.  I  has  de  honoh  of  servin'  as 
rough'ree.  Principals  an'  secon's  will  enteh 
de  ring.  .  .  .  Folks,  I  interdooces  Misteh  Som'- 


set." 


A  murmur  of  applause  greeted  the  Somerset 
entrance.  Tthe  rough'ree  continued,  ' 'Misteh 
Marsden,  bes'  knowed  as  de  Wildcat." 

The  Wildcat  returned  to  his  corner  and  sat 
down  in  a  chair  beside  which  stood  Lily.  On 
the  mascot's  face  was  a  look  of  wonderment  but 
her  expression  was  considerably  concealed  by  the 
flowing  ends  of  the  yellow  necktie  upon  which 
she  steadily  munched.  Lily  turned  from  her 
survey  of  the  crowd  and  upon  the  visible  sections 
of  her  countenance  was  written  a  question  which 
the  Wildcat  read  and  answered. 

"How's  it  com  in'  out,  goat, — dat  Som'set  ain't 
comin'  out.  He's  goin', — an'  feet  fust  at  dat." 

"Blaa-a !"  As  well  as  she  could  Lily  expressed 
her  faith  in  the  Wildcat  and  her  belief  in  the 
truth  of  the  Wildcat's  prediction. 

Demmy,  busy  a  moment  with  the  laces  of  the 
Wildcat's  thin  gloves,  whispered  his  final  words 


266  LILY 

of  advice.  "Stay  away  fm  him, — dat  boy  looks 
heavy  in  de  hands.  Bide  yo'  time  an'  when  de 
openin'  comes,  fill  it  up !" 

"Demmy,  I  fills  it.  Fills  it  wid  my  head. 
Buttin'  ain't  barred." 

"Nuthin'  barred.     Git  yos  meat!" 

"Us  gits  it.  Us  learns  dat  nigger  who  works 
fo'  Cap'n  Jack." 

Bang!  The  gong.  Two  dancing  figures  in 
the  center  of  the  wide  cone  of  light  that  spread 
downward  upon  the  arena. 

The  Wildcat,  looking  for  an  early  chance  to 
utilize  his  battering  ram  technique,  kept  his  head 
low. 

Som'set,  light  on  his  feet,  covered  the  distance 
around  his  opponent  three  times  before  the  crowd 
began  to  hand  out  free  advice. 

Lily,  standing  tense  beside  Demmy  in  the 
Wildcat's  corner,  tried  her  best  to  understand 
what  was  going  on.  She  chewed  more  slowly  on 
the  yellow  necktie. 

Then  the  Wildcat  saw  his  chance.  Head  low, 
he  rammed  straight  for  Som'set's  belt. 

"Bam!" 

Before  the  instant  of  contact,  which  seemed 
strangely  delayed,  the  Wildcat  was  conscious  of 
some  intervening  catastrophe  which  had  not  been 


LILY  267 

scheduled, — something  like  a  pussonal  train  wreck, 
with  sky  rockets. 

Som'set  had  side-stepped,  and  then  with  the  ef 
fective  style  of  a  mule,  he  had  kicked  his  heavy 
right  foot  straight  for  the  Wildcat's  neck. 

The  Wildcat  crumpled  up  and  dropped  like  a 
sack  of  anvils.  .  .  . 

"Six — seven — eight — "  The  rough' ree's  voice 
sounded  sharp  beneath  the  uproar. 

Som'set  waited  for  the  ten,  and  then,  bearing  his 
honors  proudly,  he  leaned  far  over  the  side  of  the 
roped  arena  and  grasped  the  outstretched  hands 
that  waved  before  him.  "Thank  you,  thanks, — 
yes, — the  French  technique — with  the  foot — 
thank  you, — " 

Lily! 

A  broad  band  of  streaming  goat-hair!  A  gal 
loping  goat!  Contact!  Bam! 

Som'set,  stooping  to  receive  the  plaudits  of  the 
crowd,  dived  suddenly,  impelled  headlong  from 
the  pose  of  pride  in  a  curve  at  one  end  of  which 
danced  the  enraged  and  bleating  mascot. 

Bam!     "Blaa-a!" 

Cheers. 

Lily,  deaf  to  the  applause  which  greeted  her 
victory,  gazed  down  from  the  ring  upon  her  fallen 
victim. 


268  LILY 

Demmy  ran  quickly  to  her  side.  "Goat,  I'll 
say  you  gits  de  champeen  belt!  Come  wid  me, 
you  gallopin'  dynamite!"  He  returned  to  the 
Wildcat's  corner,  dragging  the  mascot  and  then, 
under  cover  of  the  turmoil,  he  reached  downward 
toward  the  Rev'und  Calamus  Jordan.  "All  right, 
rev'und!"  His  hand  returned  carrying  a  tight 
package  which  he  stored  in  the  depths  of  his  right- 
hand  pocket. 

This  accomplished,  the  sawed-off  second  walked 
to  the  Wildcat's  side  and  held  a  bottle  to  the 
fallen  one's  lips.  "Wilecat,  wake  up,  drink  dis !" 

"Lif7  dat  enjine  off  me.  .  .  .  Who  flung  dat 
anvil?  ,  f  .  Whuff!  ...  Gin!  ...  Whah  you 
git  de  gin,  Demmy?  Whut's  all  de  folks  doin' 
heah?" 

"Set  up,  Wilecat.  Does  you  feel  able  to 
walk?" 

"Sho*  do.     Whah's  Som'set?" 

*cDey's  carry  in'  dat  nigger  to  de  clo'es  room 
f  'm  whah  he  lit.  Looks  like  he's  killed. 

"Whah  at  I  hit  dat  boy?" 

"In  de  foot.  Wid  yo'  neck.  Drink  dis  gin 
an'  us  goes  away  sudden." 

Demmy  stopped  only  long  enough  to  edge  into 
the  opposition's  dressing  room,  ostensibly  to  ex 
tend  the  Wildcat's  compliments^  He  lingered 


LILY  269 

two  minutes,  finding  opportunity  to  secrete  the 
balance  of  the  red  and  white  rags  and  the  thin 
bones  in  various  pockets  of  Som'set's  street  clothes. 
"When  Som'set  wakes  up  tell  him  git  home  quick," 
he  advised,  "Cap'n  Jack  likely  need  him/' 


CHAPTER   XXII 


THE  Wildcat,  able  to  walk,  got  some  of  the 
story  on  his  way  up  the  street  from  Willie 
Webster's  place.  The  more  he  heard  the 
.worse  he  felt.  "Don't  tell  me  no  mo',  Demmy, 
I'se  heard  twice  a-plenty.  Dat  yaller  baboon 
kick  me  to  sleep  an'  us  sleeps  'nuf  to  let  dat  green 
back  money  git  away, — dat  nigger  still  got  his 
job  wid  Cap'n  Jack  an'  heah  us  is.  ...  Doggone 
dat  Lady  Luck, — could  I  ketch  dat  woman  I'd 
run  her  whah  de  devil's  waitin'  wid  de  brimstone." 

Demmy  made  no  direct  reply.  "Come  on, 
Wilecat.  Git  goin',"  he  urged.  "Drag  dat 
champeen  goat  wid  you." 

"Whah'susgwine?" 

"Us  makes  de  alley  back  of  yo'  Cap'n  Jack's 
house.  Might  see  somethin'  interestin'  if  us  is  in 
time." 

They  turned  into  the  alley  at  twenty  minutes 
before  nine.  In  the  shadows  near  Captain  Jack's 
woodshed  they  waited  quietly  for  five  minutes  and 
then  the  stillness  of  the  night  was  broken  by  the 

270 


LILY  271 

sound  of  clattering  feet.  Up  the  alley^  half  run 
ning  and  moaning  to  himself,  twisting  around 
every  twenty  feet  to  look  behind  him,  came  Som- 
'set,  the  victor  of  the  night's  event. 

When  the  runner's  face  was  revealed  by  the 
little  incandescent  midway  of  the  alley  it  showed 
gray  except  for  a  long  skinless  strip  running  from 
his  forehead  down  the  bridge  of  his  nose.  He 
was  mumbling  to  himself  -and  most  of  his  words 
were  strange  to  the  Wildcat's  ears.  "Zomby! 
Ah  sweet  Lard !  Key-bless !  Eyes  that  look  at 
the  sun !  Sweet  Lard  on  high !  Hornless  goat ! 
Zomby!  Papal oi  git  me!  Red  rag  and  the 
white  bone!  Zomby!  Voodoo!" 

" Whut  ails  dat  boy  ?"  The  Wildcat  whispered 
his  question. 

"Shut  up.     Lissen  him  go !     Wait  quiet." 

The  frenzied  Som'set  fumbled  with  the  latch  on 
the  woodshed  door.  He  opened  the  door  and 
when  he  was  inside  and  on  his  way  to  the  house 
Demmy  ventured1  another  suggestion.  "Come  in 
de  woodshed  quick.  Dat  nigger  comes  back 
mighty  sudden  'less  I'se  crazy." 

The  pair  secreted  themselves  in  the  dark  end 
of  the  woodshed  and  wedged  the  mascot  goat  be 
tween  them.  They  waited  less  than  two  minutes 
and  again  they  heard  the  tortured  voice  of  the 


272  LILY 

yaller  Eustace.  ' 'Redeeming  Lard!  Red  rag 
and  the  white  bone !  Wow-ooo !  Zomby !" 

The  frenzied  traveller  carried  a  suit  case  with 
him  and  he  shrivelled  with  the  fear  of  some  in 
visible  menace. 

"Demmy,  dat  boy  gives  me  de  creeps.  Sho' 
acted  crazy.  Whut  you  'spose  ails  him?" 

When  the  departing  Som'set  neared  the  far  end 
of  the  alley  the  Wildcat,  who  had  emerged  from 
the  woodshed  to  watch  him  go,  ventured  an 
other  question.  "Whut  kin  ail  dat  travellin' 
fool?' 

His  companion  did  not  reply  directly.  In 
stead, — "Wilecat,  you  ain't  seen  no  speed  yet. 
Watch  him  now  an'  you  sees  him  begin  to  travel 
easy,"  he  advised.  Demmy  cupped  his  hands 
and  moaned  a  long-drawn  reverberating  word 
after  the  fugitive.  "Zbmmm-m-m.  Zom-by!" 

"Lawd,  Demmy, — look  at  dat  boy  go.  Laigs 
twinklin' !  Wuz  de  tongues  out  dat  boy's  shoes 
he'd  be  flyin' !" 

In  the  distance  the  racing  Som'set  seemed  to 
triple  his  pace  at  Demmy's  launching  cry. 

The  accelerator  turned  to  his  companion.  "Go 
on  in  an'  git  yo'  job  wid  Cap'n  Jack.  Dat 
Som'set  nigger  neveh  comin'  back  to  dis  place. 
Neveh  no  mo' !?? 


LILY  273 

"I'se  gwine,  Demmy,  but  befo'  I  busts  tell  me 
whut  ails  dat  yaller  hounV 

"Nuthin'  ails  him, — 'cept  de  Zombies  is  afteli 
him.  Ghosts, — dat's  whut  dem  niggers  mos' 
dreads.  OP  Zomby  comes  an'  leaves  a  sign, — 
li'l  bone  or  else  mebbe  a  oP  piece  of  rag  an'  dem 
Hayti  niggers  goes  hog  wild.  Jamaica!  Huh! 
Wilecat,  when  dey  toP  me  dat  boy  talked  dis 
French-like  talk  I  look  close  an*  seed  de  Hayti 
blue  undeh  his  yaller  skin.  I'se  been  in  Hayti 
on  a  banana  boat.  I  knows  dem  island  niggers. 
Knows  dem  an'  all  dat  voodoo  stuff  dey  believes." 

"Demmy,  all  I  sez  is  hot  dam!  You  beats 
hell!  Mebbe  you  is  middlin'  sized  outside  but 
inside  yo'  head  you  is  all  whale  meat.  Come  on 
heah  wid  me  'till  oP  Cap'n  Jack  gits  a  look  at  de 
livin'  wondeh  of  de  worP !" 

"Go  git  yo'  job  wid  yo'  white- folks.  Me  an' 
dis  champeen  goat  waits  in  de  shed  whilst  you 
meets  de  big  man." 

The  Wildcat  started  away  and  for  a  moment 
Demmy  gazed  at  his  companion  in  silence.  Then 
he  reached  into  the  depths  of  his  right-hand  pocket 
after  the  package  which  Rev'und  Calamus  Jordan 
had  handed  up  from  the  ringside  after  the  sudden 
conclusion  of  the  battle.  "Wilecat,  come  back  a 
minnit."  He  spread  a  thick  stack  of  greenbacks 


274  L I L  Y 

on  the  floor  of  the  woodshed  and  divided  the 
pile  into  two  parts.  "Wilecat,  heah's  yo'  fo' 
hun'ded  dollahs  an'  de  same  repeated.  Dat's 
whut  you  win  when — " 

"Whut  I  win4?     How  you  bet  dat  money ?" 

"I  figgered  you  didn't  know  dem  French  nig 
gers  kick, — an'  dat  de  accident  might  git  you. 
It  did.  Heah's  yo'  winnin's.  I  bet  on  Som'set." 

"Demmy,  all  I  sez  is  dis, — has  Lady  Luck  got 
a  husban'  you  is  him !  Hot  dam !  Boy,  I  repeats 
my  fust  claim,  no  matteh  how  light  built  you  is 
outside,  de  inside  of  yo'  head  is  solid  gold  whale 
meat!" 

The  enthusiast  turned  to  his  mascot  goat. 
"Lily,  spit  out  whut  you  is  eatin'.  Me  an' 
Demmy  buys  you  di'monds  to  eat  does  Lady  Luck 
keep  travellin'  like  she  done  to-night!" 

Demmy  interposed  a  suggestion.  "Betteh  go 
on  in  now  an'  see  Cap'n  Jack.  Me  an'  Lily  waits 
heah  whilst  us  gits  hired  on." 


Stepping  high  the  Wildcat  made  his  second 
trip  to  Captain  Jack's  back  door.  His  knock  was 
answered  this  time  by  the  cook.  "Whut  you 
want,  rappin'  de  do'  so  late?" 


LILY  275 

"Craves  to  meet  up  wid  Cap'n  Jack.  Leave 
me  in,  woman,  befo'  I  tells  him  to  send  you  fo' 
help." 

"Whut  you  mean,  uppity, — help  fo'  whut'?" 

"Cookin'  help.  When  I  gits  through  wid  Cap'n 
Jack  I  aims  to  learn  you  how  much  I  kin  eat. 
You  thinks  I  eats  a  meal, — when  I  is  eatin'  right 
it  takes  you  an'  two  mo'  agile  cooks  to  handle  de 
,grub.  When  I  eats  I  splatters  gravy  miles 
aroun'!  Whah's  my  white- folks'?" 

"In  de  li'bary,  honey.  Cap'n  is  restin'. 
G'long  in.  Come  back  an'  I  feeds  you.  Git 
goin'  you  champeen  vittle  snake !" 

The  Wildcat  made  his  way  to  the  front  of  the 
house.  Midway  of  his  journey  he  dropped  his 
hat  on  the  floor  when,  through  an  open  doorway, 
he  saw  his  Captain  Jack.  He  came  to  a  sudden 
halt  and  stood  silent  for  a  minute  looking  at 
•his  own  white-folks.  A  sudden  fear  gripped 
him  then  and  a  terrific  wave  of  apprehension 
swept  over  him.  "Whut  if  de  Cap'n  fails 


me!' 


He  looked  around  him.  Through  the  half- 
open  door  of  a  coat  closet  he  saw  a  faded  olive- 
drab  overcoat  with  the  three  golden  chevrons  of 
the  A.  E.  F.  on  the  left  sleeve. 

He  lifted  the  coat  from  its  hook  and  brushed! 


276  LILY 

it  lightly  with  his  hand.  Then  he  began  curry 
ing  it  gently  with  his  own  coat-sleeve.  As  he 
worked  he  looked  not  at  the  faded  coat  but  at  the 
white  man  seated  in  the  zone  of  light  that  spread 
over  the  library  table.  "My  own  white-folks!" 

He  quit  work  on  the  coat  and  devoted  himself 
to  the  single  business  of  looking  at  Captain  Jack. 

Presently  the  brushing  was  resumed,  this  time 
with  unusual  industry,  and  to  his  labor  the  Wild 
cat  breathed  an  accompaniment  of  whispered 
song: 

"Eats  when  I  kin  git  it,  sleeps  mos*  all  de  time, 

I  don't  give  a  doggone  if  de  sun  don't  neveh  shine.  .  .  ." 

Captain  Jack  looked  up ! 
The  song  grew  from  a  whisper  to  a  bee-size 
humming : 

"Dat's  de  reason  I'se  happy  as  a  bee, 

I  don't  botheh  work  when  work  don't  botheh  me." 

"Wildcat!     Come  here!" 

"Cap'n,  yessuh!"  In  four  long  strides  the 
prodigal  gained  the  library.  He  clicked  stiffly 
to  attention  and  swung  a  perfect  salute  toward 
Captain  Jack.  "Cap'n  suh,  us  is  heah!" 


LILY  277 

"At  rest!  Cut  that  monkey  business  out* 
Where  in  hell  have  you  been4?" 

The  Wildcat  relaxed  one  millionth  of  an  inch* 
"Cap'n  suh,  no  place  'cept  comin'  back  to  you. 
Been  comin'  de  longes'  time !  Sho'  proud  to  see 
you.  Dis  coat  seems  mussed  up  bad, — some  tri- 
flin'  nigger — " 

"Put  it  back." 

Captain  Jack  turned  from  the  Wildcat  and 
called  through  the  doorway.  "Eustace!  Eu 
stace  Somerset!" 

"Cap'n  suh,  dat  useless  nigger  is  left.  Is  he 
still  goin'  de  way  he  wuz  when  I  seed  him  las' 
he  be  in  Cuba  by  bedtime." 

Captain  Jack  looked  at  the  Wildcat  and  a  faint 
smile  on  his  face  served  to  soften  his  words,  "Go 
upstairs  and  get  the  shotgun  in  my  room.  I  aim 
to  kill  you  about  the  time  Eustace  lands  in  Cuba. 
Tell  the  cook  to  feed  you  first.  I  don't  want  to 
kill  you  on  an  empty  stomach." 

"Cap'n  suh,  yessuh!  Sho'  will."  Departing, 
he  hesitated  at  the  doorway  for  a  moment.  "Deys 
a  boy  wid  me,  Cap'n, — sort  of  sawed-off,  dwin- 
dlin'  nigger  named  Demmy.  Boy  seems  took 
bad  wid  de  work  itch.  Mebbe  could  you  let  him 
trim  de  grass  an' — " 

"Is  he  a  good  boy?" 


278  LILY 

"Cap'n  suh,  de  bes'  boy  I'se  eveh  seed!" 

"Tell  the  cook  to  feed  him.  Bed  him  down. 
I'll  try  him.  If  he's  no  good  I'll  kill  both  of 
you  Friday  afternoon  when  I  get  more  time." 

"Cap'n,  yessuh !"  In  spite  of  orders  to  the  con 
trary  the  Wildcat  contributed  full  military  honors 
to  the  ceremony  of  his  exit,  but  once  clear  of  the 
zone  of  visibility  his  manner  changed.  By  the 
time  he  reached  the  kitchen  he  was  a  writhing 
personification  of  Old  Man  Joy.  "Cook,  honey, 
git  de  skillit  on  de  fire!  Prepare  heavy  fo'  my 
secon'  comin'.  I  gits  back  in  two  minnits  an*  I 
warns  you,  woman,  git  goin'  strong  wid  my  ra 
tions  befo'  sudden  death  delays  you!" 

The  whirlwind  galloped  to  the  woodshed  where 
waited  Demmy  and  the  mascot  goat.  "Hot  dam, 
Demmy !  Us  is  hired  on !  OP  Cap'n  sez  f o'  us 
both  to  git  to  work!  De  fust  job  is  trainin'  dat 
cook  how  big  a  ration  kin  be  when  it's  fo'  me  an' 
you.  Git  comin' !  Come  'long,  Lily,  befo'  de 
flies  eats  you!  .  .  .  Lady  Luck,  heah  us  is!" 


THE    END 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-25m-6,'66(G3855s4)458 


N9  543185 


Wiley,  H. 
Lily. 


PS3545 

1358 

L5 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
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